Duets
by GinnyPotter6891
Summary: Muggle AU. Harry Potter is a pop singer; Ginny Weasley is called up from the audience to sing a number with him. [Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley] Neville Longbottom. I am not J. K. Rowling.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **__This AU is inspired by a video of Josh Groban singing a duet with a young woman, Maude Daigneault(?), from his audience. Ms. Daigneault had a voice that wowed the audience, Mr. Groban, and me. Many thanks to the wonderful GryffindorMischief for being my Beta!_

**Duets**

**Chapter 1: The Tenth Duet**

Harry James Potter stood behind the curtain at the side of the stage of the Manchester Riverview, awaiting his cue to stride out onto it. His warm up act, a young woman named Kayla Kennedy, was just beginning her last number. Despite having a bit more than two years' experi-ence singing in halls this large or larger, he was a little more nervous than usual. Tonight, for the tenth consecutive concert, he would be singing a duet with someone from the audience. _Hopefully a female someone. Not a given since last week for some reason Nev and Hannah chose a bloke to be my singing partner. Granted, the guy had an androgynous name and a rather high-pitched voice, but they still should've known from the audition tape he sent that he was a bloke!_ Harry shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from curling into fists at the memory. _What a scramble that was to choose a song that he might have known but wasn't a love song! I thought I was going to kill someone afterward._ His other duet partners had been women, and only one of those had a voice he could call passable. He hoped tonight's pick had a good voice.

A tall, sandy-haired man with a long chin patted him on the shoulder. "Relax, Harry," Neville Longbottom said as if reading his mind. "I guarantee it's a bird tonight. Her name's Ginny. That's a feminine name if I've ever heard one. And she can sing."

"If it's another guy, you're fired, Nev, and that will be the end of this experiment."

Neville chuckled, obviously not believing him, and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Just remember to give me a sign if you want to have dinner with her after the concert," he reminded Harry and walked away.

_As if._ Harry cast him a dark look before taking a deep breath and trying to relax as advised. Neville was Harry's best friend as well as his manager, starting out when Harry was first singing in pubs and bars on weekends, juggling practice and homework for his uni classes. Nev's abilities had grown along with his responsibilities. When Harry first began singing back in secondary school, he had no stage presence. That was when Neville began working with him. After studying other singers, he coached Harry in how to move around the stage, helping him truly see the vast area as part of his palette rather than the pit he'd first considered it. Now he was comfortable walking around it or perching on the edge of a tall stool.

Last week's duet fiasco had been the only blot on Nev's record.

Loud applause drew his attention back to the stage where Kayla Kennedy had finished her encore and was bowing and blowing kisses to the attendees. After walking backwards for a couple feet, she pivoted and ran the rest of the way offstage. She paused next to Harry to catch her breath. "You're up. I've warmed them up for you."

Harry nodded. "You were great," he told her sincerely, though he was a bit distracted, awaiting his cue. He hardly noticed when she moved on.

Since she used his backup band and singers there was no need for much, if any, stage work. Several minutes passed and then Harry heard Neville's disembodied voice saying, "And now, for your listening pleasure," he paused as if to build up suspense, "Harry James!"

Once more Harry checked the mike that hung from his ear and jutted out toward his mouth to make sure it was on and working before parting the curtains and trotting to center stage to the tumultuous welcome of his fans.

After thanking his fans several times, he nodded to Mike, his lead guitarist, and the first strands of his latest release, 'Tell Me Again (That You Love Me),' wafted through the air to the approval of the concertgoers. He began to sing and the butterflies in his stomach melted away.

Before he knew it, he had finished singing 'Without You,' a cover of an old Air Supply song, and it was time to call Ginny Weasley onstage. As the applause died down Harry toted his stool to the back of the stage. Approaching his audience again, Harry noticed from the corner of his eye Stan, his advance man as well as jack-of-all-trades, in the general area where his newest partner was sitting, stop and stoop to talk to her. He turned his attention back to his waiting fans and began, "As you've probably heard, I've begun a new thing during my concerts of calling up someone from the audience to sing with me." Whistles and shouts erupted here and there. "Tonight, I'd like to invite Ginny Weasley to join me."

In a seat to the side and not far back from the stage, Ginny was enjoying the concert as Harry James was one of her favorite entertainers. On a lark she'd taped herself singing one of his early songs _a Capella_ and sent it in. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected to be one of the ten finalists to sing a duet with him at this concert, but here she was, in the first seat of the row, a seat for which she'd been given a complimentary ticket, one of the ten to be so chosen. All ten of them had been told that the ticket was no guarantee that they would be the one who actually joined Harry onstage. Ginny had no illusions that the chosen one would be her.

Therefore, when someone stopped next to her seat and crouched down, she was startled and annoyed that he was blocking her view. Then the man began to speak. "Miss Weasley?"

"Yes? How did –?"

The man went on as if she had remained silent. "I'm part of the Harry James stage crew and have come to tell you that you are Harry's duet partner tonight. If you'll come with me?"

In the dim light she could just make out that he was wearing a uniform with "Harry James Stage Crew" printed on the breast pocket. Beneath that was his name, '_Stan._' In shock she stood up, grasping her purse, and as she took the first step towards the stage and Harry, she heard him say her name, "…Ginny Weasley to join me." _Surely this is all a dream!_

Heads began turning, trying to pick her out, and murmurs broke out. Stan was on his way back to the side of the stage, his bulk mostly hiding the young woman following him from Harry's view. When his advance man reached the steps and stood aside, she shoved her purse at him and put her foot on the first stair.

As Ginny climbed the half dozen or so stairs to the stage Harry allowed a smile of welcome, not the grin he wanted to give, to appear on his face. She was of middling height, about seven, maybe eight, inches shorter than his own 6'2", with long red hair framing a heart-shaped face. When she neared him, he realized she had a smattering of freckles decorating her cheekbones and pert nose. Eyes the color of cinnamon were open wide as she gazed at him.

Harry extended his hand to her, partly to put her at ease, and she took it. "Good evening, Ginny. May I call you Ginny?" She nodded. "How are you this evening?"

"F-fine," Ginny stuttered. "How are you?"

"Excellent. I'm excellent, thank you for asking." A tittering of laugher swept the venue. "Did they tell you what we would be singing?"

"'Stay'," she replied.

"And you know the lyrics?"

"Yes, I do."

"Brilliant!" He nodded to Mike, and the prelude to the song streamed off Mike's and Tony's guitars and Cheryl's keyboard. Sylvia and Gwen, the backup singers, began humming. Then Harry looked at Ginny, took her hand in his, and nodded at her, and they began to sing together as if they'd practiced the song hundreds of times. Harry realized immediately that her voice was more than passable. The fact that it blended well with his was an unexpected bonus. As they sang, the lights overhead picked out gold, auburn, strawberry blonde, copper, and a myriad of other reds that melded into the glorious red covering her head and cascading down her back. Her cherry-red lips caught his eye, and he watched her tongue peeking out past her teeth whenever she sang the '-_th-_' sound. He jerked his eyes back to hers and was relieved to find she was staring down at her fingers holding the microphone. Turning his head, he looked out at the crowd before looking back at her. She was nervous, he could tell, but she was singing very well. His emerald gaze drifted to her lips again, and then the tip of her tongue breached her teeth again, and he felt a twitch in his trousers. Horrified, he quickly looked out at the audience again.

The song came to an end on a long, held note, and the audience went wild. Harry found himself wishing he'd chosen a longer piece. He moved his mike away from his mouth before raising her hand to the audience in acknowledgement of her talent. Turning to her, he said, "Thank you for joining me. It was a real pleasure."

Ginny flushed, dropping the hand that held her mike. "Thank _you_! I really enjoyed it, too."

Nev came up to escort her back to the stairs and gave Harry a pointed stare. Harry winked, and with shock Nev realized Harry wanted him to give Ginny the invitation. In the short time he had with her he murmured, "Harry would like you to join him after the concert is over for dinner. Would you be available?"

Nev's shock was negligible compared to Ginny's that was evident on her face. "Ye-yes, I would."

"Wait until it clears out down here and come back to Stan. He'll know that you're going to join us. I'm Neville – I'll come to take you back to Harry."

Ginny nodded. They were at the steps, and she hurried down them, took her shoulder bag back from Stan, and quickly walked back to her seat. By the time she got there Harry was already singing his next number. _I'm going to have dinner with Harry James_, she thought. After a moment she pinched herself, convinced that this whole thing had been a dream. The pain and continued circumstances persuaded her that she was awake. _I really am going to have dinner with Harry James!_ Even as she watched and listened to Harry sing, the thought was like a refrain at the back of her mind.

An hour later Harry launched into his encore song, 'Dreaming of You'. He was hot and sweaty from being under the lights for so long. Though he thoroughly enjoyed every concert he gave, by the end of the evening he was ready to leave the stage and return to his everyday life. The last note left his lips. He asked for an ovation for his band, The Marauders, bowed, waved to his fans, and, as Kayla had done before him, backed half-way off the stage before giving a final wave and turning to stride to the navy-blue draperies. The Marauders continued to play for several minutes after he reached the anonymity behind the curtains.

Neville was at the bottom of the backstage stairs awaiting him. "Well? What did she say?"

Nev grinned. "She'll be here. She's quite a looker."

Harry looked almost proud of her. "Yes, she is, and very talented. It's a shame she doesn't sing professionally." He turned toward the dressing room assigned him. "I'm off to the shower." After taking several steps away from his best friend, he pivoted. "Find out whether she has a car here. If she came by bus. I can take her home."

Nev thought his friend looked eager to do so, and an idea blossomed in his head. He had a couple things to take care of before he could make his way to Stan and the very attractive Ginny Weasley. He thought about his wife, Hannah. If he wasn't so in love with her, he could wish he was free to pursue Ginny himself.

The crowds thinned off rather quickly. Ginny had stepped into the aisle to allow those further in the row to leave before sitting down again. With so few people here now, she reckoned it was safe to go back down to the stage and began to follow the path Stan had made for her originally.

"Hi, Stan," she said rather shyly when she stood in front of him. "Neville said I was to wait for him here."

Stan smiled down at her. "He should be here anytime now." They stood together in silence. Onstage the sound crew was starting to tear down the equipment set-up, and she was content to stand until Neville came to get her.

It was only a couple minutes before Harry's manager strolled up to her and Stan. "Ready, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, but you can call me Ginny."

"Ginny, then. Come this way."

She followed him backstage and through a warren of small, cluttered halls before they reached a white door marked "Private" in large, bold letters. Whilst en route she managed to ask, "Does Harry ask all his duet partners to dinner then?"

"Actually, you're the only one." Neville opened the door and went inside, holding it for her.

She was stunned and, she admitted to herself, flattered.

"Your voice is much better than any of the others," he complimented her, as if to tell her that was why she'd been invited to have dinner with the singer. "Have a seat. Harry's taking a shower but will be out shortly. Now. Did you drive here or come by bus or with a friend?"

"I drove myself," she replied, wondering why he was asking

"Excellent. You and Harry will be dining at a local eatery. A reservation has already been made. If you'd like, to save you a trip back here I can drive your car to your home and bring back the key to you. Then Harry will take you home after dinner."

She found herself inexplicably trusting this man, or else she'd lost her mind. "That's fine." She opened her purse and dug around for her keys. Extracting them from the very bottom of the bag she took the car key off the ring and handed it to him.

Neville found a pen and a small pad of paper. When he looked at her expectantly, she told him to look for a '67, turquoise Ford Anglia and where to find it in the car park before handing over her key and then rattled off her address and the directions to get there. "Just hide the key under the front passenger seat and lock the door. I have a spare at my place."

Neville pocketed the key. "Will do. I probably won't see you again, so I'll say good night. It was nice meeting you."

"And you," she responded and shook the hand he offered. Then he left her.

In the shower that was part of the entertainer's suite Harry James was shampooing the restraining starch from his normally-unruly hair and thinking about the beautiful young woman who'd joined him onstage this evening. In his mind's eye he could see her singing next to him, her breasts rising almost unobtrusively as she drew air into her lungs, see that pink tongue of hers form the syllables of the lyrics he'd written and groaned as a part of him stood to attention. _You're just going to have to go unfulfilled tonight,_ he thought regretfully. Whilst he was attracted to Ginny Weasley, they lived in different cities; besides, he didn't want to start anything with a fangirl. The bubbles on top of his head were rinsed down the drain and as he soaped his body quickly and rinsed. Then his fingers closed around the water regulator and suddenly cold water was dousing him. "Shite!" he exclaimed when he could draw breath again, but the flood of cold water had done its job.

Whilst she waited for Harry James, Ginny began to have second thoughts. She'd heard all the rumors of groupies and hangers-on that musicians tended to have and have sex with. _What if he just wants to wine and dine me and expects _that_ in payment? Oh, Ginevra Molly Weasley, what have you gotten yourself into? What if he won't take 'no' for an answer?_ She shuddered before her common sense asserted itself. _Girl, get a grip! He's not an ax murderer and unlikely to be a pervert or rapist. He's probably just what he seems, a nice guy who wants feminine company whilst he eats…. Or he could be an ax murderer, pervert, or rapist. _She rolled her eyes at herself and took a deep breath.

To distract herself she looked around the room. It wasn't all that spacious, but she remembered that the Riverview was rather old, built right after the Second World War, and decided that explained the size. The furnishings, a sofa, love seat, and two armchairs upholstered in crimson brocade, clustered around a coffee table, and at the back wall was a table with a hot plate holding a teapot, several tea cups, and the remnants of an earlier snack. Remembering reading about some of the outrageous demands more established celebrities reportedly made, she was rather impressed with his lack of pretense.

Just then the door at the back of the room opened and Harry stepped through. Onstage, Harry's hair was sleekly styled, not the messy 'do currently topping his head, and his eyes unencumbered by the round-lensed glasses he now wore. He had worn a short-sleeved, buttoned-down white shirt open at the collar with navy blue slacks whilst singing. Now he was clad in a long-sleeved blue polo shirt and khakis, trainers on his feet in lieu of the cordovan loafers he'd worn before.

Ginny's eyebrows arched. "Is this your disguise when you go about in public?" she asked, referring to his glasses and hair style.

Harry grinned. "Actually, my stage persona _is_ my disguise. I wear contact lenses whilst out there, and a ton of hairspray tames this unruly mop."

Ginny's fingers actually itched to run through his untidy hair but she was smart enough to keep that to herself. "Well, if I hadn't been expecting you to come out of that door I would never have known you were – are – Harry James."

Harry chuckled. "Good! That means we can move about freely. Shall we go?"

She stood in reply.

"Neville found a little Italian restaurant down the road several miles. He knows I'm fond of steak, but there's always steak on any menu at an Italian place."

"It sounds good to me. I love Italian food."

Harry went through the door after her. They walked through the rabbit warren again but the distance to an exit was much shorter. Stan stood there as if waiting for them, and it turned out that he was.

"I just checked outside, boss, and the coast is clear." He opened the door for them.

"Thanks, Stan. Have a good night – I'll see you in a couple days."

Stan nodded.

"It was nice meeting you, Stan," Ginny told him sincerely. "Thanks for all your help."

"It was nothing, Miss Weasley," he replied.

As they walked the short distance to Harry's vehicle, he asked her if she had enjoyed the concert. Ginny grinned. "What's the matter, Harry? Need some positive feedback?" As soon as she said it, she was appalled at herself before realizing that already she felt like she'd known him forever.

Harry gave her a surprised look before laughing. "That transparent, eh?"

Blushing, she ducked her head. "No, just my mouth running away with me."

He seemed to find that funny, too, going by his grin. "Well, did you?"

"How could I not?"

They'd arrived at Harry's car, a little convertible coupe, more expensive than Ginny's sturdy auto but not the flashy model Ginny expected a celebrity to drive. Again, he held the door whilst she got in before crossing to the driver's side.

When Harry turned on the car, the radio was already on. He was fiddling with some of the car's knobs and had fallen silent. Absentmindedly, Ginny began to sing softly, a habit of hers when in her own auto alone. Harry joined in, another grin on his face. She returned his grin, raising her voice to match his, and they sang together the whole way to Mario's Italian Ristorante, a drive of about fifteen minutes. A carpark to the side of Mario's afforded a place for Harry to park. His hand lightly at her back guided her to the establishment's front door.

"Reservation for Harry Potter," Harry told the host. Ginny caught his eye and arched her brows a second time. Harry said nothing as the mustachioed man checked him off the 'reservations' list and led them to a back booth. Laying a menu on each side of the table, he left them.

Harry gestured for her to take the bench facing the front door whilst he took the bench seat facing the back wall. Ginny repeated the look she gave him at the front door.

"Potter's my real last name," he told her quietly. "The other one is my middle name."

"Oh. Well, that works," she commented.

"And brilliantly, if I say so myself."

She smiled. Harry opened the menu and scanned it and she did the same. Ginny felt unaccountably shy and unsure of what to say so she waited for him to break the silence. Perusing the menu, she decided on chicken fettucine alfredo with mushrooms and a side Caesar salad. Then she closed it and set it to her left. Looking up, she found that Harry must have made his choice already, for he was watching her.

"You have an excellent, lovely voice," he complimented her. "I was quite surprised when you began to sing."

"I could tell," she replied with a light laugh. "Were you not told that I could hold a note?"

"Yes, but I was told that about others and was underwhelmed."

She smiled. "Well, then, I'm glad I surprised you."

"Tell me a little about yourself," he urged her.

"Well, I'm the youngest of seven, and all six of my siblings are brothers."

Harry whistled briefly and lowly. "Wow. Six brothers? You poor girl!"

"Thank you! No one seems to understand just how crazy six older brothers can drive a girl! Don't get me wrong, I love my brothers and most of the time consider myself very lucky to have them. But sometimes I could just happily wring their necks."

"I imagine they're all much bigger than you and can intimidate any guy who comes around."

Her face showed her surprise. "How did you know?"

"Neville has two brothers, one older and one younger, and a much younger sister. She says they drive her to drink. From what I've seen of them, I'm surprised she doesn't have cirrhosis of the liver already."

Ginny joined his laughter. "Sounds like my brothers," she agreed.

"What else?" he prompted her.

"Let's see. My family hails from the outskirts of Ottery St. Mary in Devon. I went to uni in Scotland, graduated last spring, and am the proud owner of a marketing degree. I'm currently gainfully employed by Collins, Hollins, and Rollins north of the city."

Harry laughed. "You're kidding! Collins, Hollins, and … what was it?"

"Rollins. It's actually Collins, Hollis, and Rollins, but I have a hard time refraining from making fun of the name. Fortunately, my bosses have good senses of humor."

"So what do you do?"

"They make small replacement parts for different types of engines. I work in inside sales."

Harry asked her several more questions, drawing her out, until their waiter came to take their order. True to his stated intentions, Harry ordered a steak, medium rare, with a jacket potato and a Caesar salad. Ginny ordered the pasta she chose when she first opened the menu. Whilst they waited for their meals, they moved on from talking about her job to her singing voice. She confessed to him that she almost did not send her audition cd in. It was only the thought of the effort she went to, to make the cd that decided her to send it. "After all, no one else would hear it to tease me about it."

He told her again how impressed he was with her voice and jokingly told her he would pay her to join him at all of his concerts just to have the pleasure of singing with her again. Ginny blushed but said cheekily that she would have her lawyer call his lawyer. Though it was rather a hackneyed joke they laughed together.

They talked throughout the evening, topics ranging from their favorite foods to favorite movies and other favorites of theirs. Harry asked if she was a football fan, and she replied that with six brothers she didn't have a choice. They continued talking on the drive to her apartment interrupted only by her giving him directions where to turn and occasionally singing along together to a tune on the radio.

All too soon for Ginny, Harry parallel parked his auto in front of the building where she lived. In the illumination provided by a street lamp Ginny picked out her auto.

"A duplex," he noticed. "Are you up or down?"

"Up. It's owned by a family friend of a friend. Several of the houses on the street are."

He got out into the cold December air and went around to hold the door for her; she led him around to the side of the house where the covered stoop denoted her entrance.

She already had her key out and unlocked the door. She came close to saying, _Thank you very much for the best evening of my life_ but at the last moment decided to tone it down. Instead she said, "I've really enjoyed this evening. Thank you."

"Truly, it's been my pleasure," Harry replied. "Would you consider going to the Man City football game with me tomorrow afternoon?" he surprised himself by asking.

She wasn't sure she heard him right. "Pardon?" He repeated himself, and she said, "Yes, I'd love to."

"Fantastic! I'll pick you up around two – I know it's a bit early for the game, but that will give us time to get to my box before the rest of the fans start arriving. We'll have dinner there."

"I'll be ready," she assured him.

They exchanged 'good nights' and then he gave her a short, light hug and stepped down from the porch but watched her go inside. As soon as he heard her lock the door he walked thoughtfully back to his car. _She's a pretty thing,_ he acknowledged, but was still surprised that he had asked her out again. He really hadn't intended to do that.

Though she was a little disappointed not to get a kiss, even just a peck on the cheek, Ginny quickly climbed the stairs to her parlor and crossed to the front window, arriving just in time to watch him pull away from the kerb and drive away. She was much too keyed up to sleep any time soon, instead heating a cup of milk to help her relax and feel drowsy.

Ginny thought their first 'official' date was a lot of fun. The car park was practically deserted when Harry pulled his convertible into his own space at City of Manchester stadium. His box was impressive – at least it was to Ginny, who hadn't even seen the inside of one previously much less attended a game whilst sitting in one. Upon entering they encountered a benchtop with cabinets and a small refrigerator below separated by a walkway from more cabinets that reached from the floor to the ceiling. A veggie platter with dip and a bowl of crisps, both covered with cling film, already sat on the benchtop. A sofa crouched against a wall opposite three leather armchairs, above which hung a large-screen telly and two smaller televisions. Two rectangular, pub-height tables with three chairs each were placed in front of the glass dividing the room from the open-air seats.

Ginny dropped her jumper and purse in one of the armchairs and went to the window. Up here it was very easy to see the whole field, and whilst you might not be able to clearly see the numbers on the players' jerseys, you would be able to see every play as it unfolded.

Having ascertained the evening before that Ginny played cards, and more expressly Cribbage, Harry brought a pack and a Cribbage board to entertain themselves before the match. Ginny was rather rusty from not playing for several years, and she told Harry that was why he won. He countered that it was his brilliant playing that won the games for him, and they agreed, laughing, to disagree. By the time the football game began he was ahead, five games to three.

The match itself was very exciting. Man City's opponent was Barnsley. At half-time Man City was up, two to one.

With five minutes before the half-time intermission began, servers arrived to bring up dinner for the couple. Harry had chosen to have a steak and kidney pie with a field greens salad and a hot loaf of French bread. The pie and bread were set on the benchtop beneath warming lamps, waiting for them to serve themselves.

At game's end Man City won convincingly, having scored three second-half goals with a final score of five to one.

When they were standing on her porch once more, Harry asked if she wanted to go out with him again. She answered in the affirmative, of course.

Taking out his cell phone, he waited for her to recite her number. "Let me give you mine, too, so you don't decline the call because you think it's a phishing call."

So, she keyed his number into her cell phone. It was that more than anything that convinced her that he would call.

"I have another concert next weekend, but perhaps we can get together the following weekend?" When she nodded her agreement, he said he would call at the end of the week.

Ginny carried her phone with her the whole day Sunday when Harry indicated he would call. It was in her pocket and buzzed just as she was returning from a trip to the laundromat. With fumbling fingers, she pulled it out and almost squealed when she saw his name confirming who her caller was. She was almost breathless when she answered it. "Hello!"

"Am I calling at a bad time?"

"No, why?"

"You sound like you've been running."

"Oh, no," she laughed. "I was lugging the laundry basket up the stairs."

"Sunday is chore day?"

"Not usually – I usually keep Sunday for a rest day and do my chores on Saturdays. How are you, Harry?"

"I'm well. I hope you are, too."

"I am." _Don't we sound stilted?_

"Nev scheduled me with a Friday evening concert this coming weekend. Would you like to get together Saturday evening?" Harry asked her.

"That sounds lovely."

"Any preferences as to what we do?"

"Not really. I'm open to suggestions."

He chuckled. "How about a cinema? Is there one in particular you'd like to see?"

"To tell the truth, I'm not sure what's out right now, but I'd like that. It seems like a very long time since I've been to the cinema."

"All right. I'll look into it and let you know Thursday evening what time to expect me, if that's okay?"

"That's fine."

Their date pretty much set, they talked a few minutes longer before saying good bye.

During Harry's Thursday evening phone call, he told Ginny he found a cinema that showed films released the previous year and asked her if she would prefer seeing a fantasy film or something literary. She opted for the fantasy film.

When Harry collected Ginny for the early showing, he let her know they would be seeing _Lord of the Rings: Two Towers_. She was delighted, having read Tolkien's series, but hadn't been able to make it to the cinema to see the film. They sat in the last row of the theatre, sharing buttered popcorn and chocolates, and sipped on Coca-Colas whilst engrossed in the cinema. Harry slung his arm around her shoulders, and Ginny held the bucket of popcorn in her lap. They didn't talk at all during the show but discussed it at length afterward, when they stopped at a grill for burgers and chips.

During the ride back to her flat, Harry turned on the radio and they began to sing with 'I Don't Want to Miss a Thing,' the Aerosmith tune playing, and several others that followed. Then his song, 'Stay,' began to play, and they couldn't stop then. Harry glanced over at her after their duet. "I've gotta get you back up on that stage with me."

Ginny grinned but shook her head. "I was a nervous wreck," she protested.

"You'll get used to it."

She just laughed and shook her head again.

At her home, Harry stepped inside her door but declined her invitation to come up to her flat for tea. Instead, he (_finally_, Ginny thought) took her in his arms and kissed her gently on her mouth. When he lifted his head their eyes met, and then he dipped his head and his lips met hers again, deepening the kiss. Her head was swimming, her heart pounding, and electricity flowed through her veins. Their mouths parted to allow them to catch their breath, and Harry simply held her, running his fingers through her silky hair, the scent of wildflowers filling his nostrils. Their lips clung together after he said good-bye, but this time he kept the kiss light.

For the next six months they saw each other regularly, usually twice a month. Ginny was impressed with how down-to-earth Harry was. Harry was impressed with how she seemed satisfied with whatever information he wanted to share with her, never asking probing questions. She didn't seem fazed when he didn't get her a Christmas gift, either, since they had not been dating long; nor did she get one for him.

Each time they snogged she felt that rush, that tingling; it was addicting. She was falling for him in a big way, jumping off a precipice and enjoying the fall.

In June Harry had no concerts scheduled so he could go back into the studio to record some new songs. He and Ginny saw each other each weekend, both Saturday and Sunday, and talked several times during the week. To Ginny, it seemed he didn't want to talk about how the recording was going. She didn't know that much about the music industry anyway, so she let it go, though she did wonder how things were progressing.

Their dates were usually to the cinema, the beach, or for meals. Though he always went in her door at the end of their dates he never went upstairs. They had some wonderful snogging sessions at the bottom of the stairwell, and occasionally Harry's hands strayed a little, but it never went farther than that. If she hadn't felt the evidence of his desire for her, she might have questioned his sexuality, but it never crossed her mind.

He called the last week of June saying he needed to postpone their date; something, he didn't specify what, had come up. Sounding a bit preoccupied, he told her he would call her the next week.

It wasn't unusual for either of them to be busy. The first months of their relationship was slow enough. But Harry was rarely caught by surprise with regard to his schedule. In the end Ginny decided they'd talk about whatever it was when Harry was ready. She'd already learned that there were things he was reticent to talk about, at least at first. Having two brothers of the six who worked that way, she settled herself to be patient.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ** This story is 7 chapters long, all of which are finished, and will be uploaded once a week.

**Chapter 2: Reboot**

But Harry didn't call when he said he would. Ginny tried not to make anything of it the first week. After the third week ended with no word from him, she could no longer make excuses for his silence.

_Well, he never promised me anything, and _those_ words were never used. I wish he'd given me a reason, a warning, something. Anything,_ she thought as she laid in bed one night, the air coming through the open bedroom window oppressively muggy. That added to her misery, and she cried herself to sleep. It was the only time she allowed herself the luxury of crying over Harry. Whenever one of his songs came on the radio, she switched stations because listening to his voice hurt too much.

At the beginning of the year she had mentioned that she was seeing a young man (calling him by his real, not stage, name) to her Mum but had declined to invite Harry home with her no matter how often she was told she could. Though she tried very hard now to keep her sadness over the break-up from her family, her mother could tell. She didn't ask any questions, just kept an eagle eye on her 'youngest chick,' encouraged her to come home more often despite the distance, and baked extra biscuits for Ginny to take back to Manchester with her.

In August, Ginny had a week's vacation scheduled to spend at the beach with her parents, youngest brother, and his new wife. Ginny's birthday was the eleventh of the month, and all of her brothers showed up to help her celebrate. Her mother made her favorite foods – roast beef with carrots, smashed potatoes, asparagus, and a salad – and her favorite cake, yellow with chocolate swirled through it, with chocolate frosting and white roses and lettering. In front of the sixteen candles her Mum had fashioned a white horse in full gallop.

After dinner Fred and George, her twin brothers, cajoled her into playing football so they would have even teams. There was a lot of laughing, teasing, shouting, and claims of cheating leveled, and it was the happiest Ginny felt since the end of June, the last time she saw Harry.

The afternoon of the first Monday in September, a large preliminary order for renewal parts was received via a phone call. Ginny spent almost an hour jotting down the specifics and stayed late to get the majority of the prices worked up, since the customer had asked for a return call by ten the next morning. On her way home, she stopped and picked up some curry take away for dinner, salivating at the enticing smells escaping the bag on the remaining minutes between her and total fulfillment. Finally, she saw her building and snagged a spot to parallel-park her car. She locked it after exiting it, the bag holding her dinner swaying from her fingers. Looking up, she realized that someone – a man – was sitting on her stoop. Her heart stuttered momentarily until she got a grip. The man's hair was too light and too smooth for him to be Harry. Still, she was gobsmacked when she recognized him.

"Neville?"

"Hello, Miss Weasley. Erm, may I call you Ginny?"

"Yes, of course. I told you that before. I didn't expect –" she paused as a sudden thought hit her. "Is everything okay with Harry?" Before Neville could answer she recalled her manners and walked up the two steps to her door, unlocking it. "Come in, please." She pushed open the wood door and entered, hearing his footsteps behind her.

Nev brushed his shoes off on her mat and walked in, shutting the door behind him. Ginny led him upstairs to her lounge. "Would you like tea?"

"That would be lovely," her unexpected guest replied. "Cream and one sugar."

She dropped the bag with her dinner in it on the table as she went past it. "Is everything okay with Harry?" she asked again as she bustled around her small kitchen preparing a cup of tea.

"Harry's healthy enough," Nev answered cryptically.

Carrying the tea to him, she stayed on her feet. "Do you mind if I start on my dinner? I'm famished." At his nod she sat at the table, extricated her dinner, and emptied it from the cardboard container onto a plate. Figuring she had stalled long enough, she asked, "What did you mean?" and lifted a forkful of the curry to her mouth.

"He misses you."

She swallowed hurriedly. "Has he suddenly gone mute? Otherwise, I think he should be the one to tell me this."

"He thinks he's blown his chance with you." Neville lifted the cup and took a sip before standing and joining her at the table.

"Again, I think _he_ should be telling me this if that's how he feels."

His tea cup clinked against the saucer and he sighed. "Harry is … listen, I never said this, but Harry is a bit … shy around girls."

"Really? I would never have guessed." Ginny was serious and finding this whole conversation rather bizarre.

A smile flitted across the face of Harry's manager. "I think his stage persona carried over into his relationship with you your first several dates. That's why Hannah – Hannah's my wife – and I came up with the gimmick of him calling up a woman from the audience to sing with him, thinking he might connect with someone. We were beginning to despair until you were chosen and he seemed to hit it off with you so well. May I ask what went wrong?"

"You may, but you'll have to ask him. He just … stopped calling me at the end of June."

Neville's eyes shut momentarily and he shook his head. "That's Harry for you," he said softly. On a louder tone he went on, "Look, Harry has a concert in Liverpool at the Omni Saturday evening, and we – Hannah and I – were hoping I could entice you to attend with a complimentary ticket. We'll call you up on stage to sing with him again –"

Ginny immediately shook her head. "No. That would be ambushing him, and I'm not going to do that." She took another small forkful of the curry and put it in her mouth, chewing deliberately, trying to keep herself calm.

The manager sighed again. "Okay. How about this – it's a front row ticket," he pulled a printed piece of heavy cardstock from the inside pocket of his jacket. "Harry will be able to see you there. Then we'll let nature take its course."

She looked at the proffered ticket for several heartbeats before looking at Neville again. "What makes you think he misses me? That he thinks he's blown his chance with me?"

Instead of answering Neville asked a question of his own. "Have you heard his new releases?"

She slowly shook her head, not caring to explain why.

Neville asked the obvious question anyway. "Can I take that to mean the break up was difficult for you, too?"

Her eyes dropped and she nodded her head twice, slowly, as if she didn't want to admit it. Actually, she _didn't_ want to admit it, not to herself, and not to someone she didn't know very well, especially someone close to Harry. "Well, I don't know if 'break up' is the right term. We just … stopped seeing each other."

"He wrote a song, the lyrics, for you, when he went into the studio in June. A ballad, of course, he titled _The Power of Your Touch_. Then early July, I believe, he took another to Mike so they could set it to music. They started including it in their practices sometime that month. It's called, _I Miss You So._ They both were written for you."

"And he told you that?" Ginny asked, afraid to hope.

Nev shrugged. "Not in so many words. He didn't have to."

She visibly deflated. "It's been over two months. I think that speaks for itself."

"Harry has been morose and bad-tempered in the last couple months, and it's not like him. He's a better person when you're in his life, and I think he'd tell you that himself."

"But he hasn't, and isn't likely to."

He shook his head. "I think you're just as stubborn as he is," he remarked with a sad smile. "I've never seen two people more made for each other and you're both just … _ugh_!" He set his now-empty tea cup on the table, the ticket next to it.

A sad smile flitted across her face at his frustrated syllable before she admitted, "I have been accused of being stubborn before."

Harry's best friend clapped his hands on his thighs and stood up. Bending slightly, he pushed the ticket toward her.

Ginny started to protest, but he just said, "Think about it this week. If you decide you don't want to come, just toss the ticket. I hope to see you there, though. I meant what I said about Harry being a better person with you in his life. And he really cares for you – he's just. He doesn't really think he's worth it sometimes."

Ginny stood with him. She didn't want the ticket, didn't want the temptation. After he left, which it was apparent he was preparing to do, she'd chuck it in the trash. Neville headed for the stairs and she followed him down to the door. Though the air was cool, she held it open after he stepped down onto the little porch. "I appreciate your coming tonight."

Neville looked at her. "Then prove it and come to the concert. I can just about guarantee you won't regret it."

"That's the thing, though, isn't it? You can't fully guarantee it." Her voice was wistful.

He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but then shut it. After meeting her gaze for a long moment, he merely repeated, "I hope I see you there."

A soft exhalation escaped her lips. "I can't promise anything."

He went down the stairs quickly and strode down the sidewalk. Ginny softly shut the door, locked it, and went back upstairs. _To my lonely life,_ she reflected. _Oh, Neville, why couldn't you have just left well enough alone? I was just starting to feel better about myself, and now you've got me in turmoil again._

Late that Saturday, Ginny found herself driving past the Omni, despite her best intentions; she had picked up the ticket several times during the week but had not been able to drop it in the bin. Noting the venue's location, she began looking for a place to have a late lunch. A couple miles down the same road she found a grill and parked the car. The wind was brisk and cool, the sky promising rain, and she was very glad she wore jeans, boots, and a hip-length, black wool jacket. Still, she shivered as she entered the small eatery.

"Sit anywhere," a gum-smacking waitress called to her.

She nodded acknowledgement and found an empty booth, easy to do since the place had few diners. The same waitress dropped a menu in front of her, saying that she would return in a minute, and Ginny wondered if the dearth of customers was because of the time or a comment on the quality of the food.

Ginny perused the menu, and the longer she looked the less sure she was that she wanted something to eat. It was nerves, not the menu offerings, that made selecting something difficult.

"Hello, dear," the older, grey-haired waitress said as she stood next to Ginny's table. "What would you like to drink?"

Ginny looked up in confusion. "I'll have a cup of tea, no lemon. I just want something light to eat. Could you recommend something?"

"How about a cup of hot soup and half a sandwich? The chicken noodle soup is delicious, and the chicken salad sandwich goes well with it."

Ginny winced, not sure she could handle even that much.

"No? There's always the old stand-by, tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich."

Ginny nodded. "That sounds better. A cup of soup and the half sandwich."

The waitress made note of her order. "It won't be long, dear," she commented before walking away.

Ten minutes later the piping hot soup and half sandwich were placed in front of her, set next to the cup of tea Ginny was nursing. Having taken note of the waitress' nametag, she said, "Thank you, Mabel."

Mabel smiled. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Eating her lunch didn't take long, unfortunately, and Ginny was left with time on her hands. Glancing around after she left the restaurant, she noticed the sign for a dress shop a couple stores down from where she stood and headed for it.

In Diana's Dresses she found a pretty, rose-colored cardigan jumper she thought would look very nice on her Mum and a floral scarf her brother Ron's wife, Hermione, would probably like. Mum loved to knit, and all of her children and grandchildren received jumpers for Christmas, but she never had time to make any for herself. With Christmas on the horizon Ginny decided to get both.

At the next store she purchased a plush elephant with embroidered eyes for Andrea, her newest niece who was just three months old. She had hoped to find something for her niece Victoria, Andrea's older sister, who was three years old and all girl, but nothing really inspired her.

Upon leaving the baby boutique she discovered that the overcast skies had lived up to its threat, and it was now raining. Though the raindrops weren't big, the buffeting wind was assaulting her with them in chilly pricks across her skin. She quickened her pace and decided to forgo any further shopping in favor of getting into her dry and warm car.

Ginny tossed her purchases in the boot and quickly got into the driver's seat. A glance at her watch told her that though it was still early, it wasn't _too_ early to head back to the Omni. She could sit in the car for half or three-quarters of an hour.

Other concert-goers were arriving and entering the venue before forty-five minutes were up, so she laid the novel that hadn't done a very good job of keeping her distracted onto the passenger seat and joined the stream of people heading for the entrance. The wind was kind and dropped off as she was locking her car, so whilst the rain was still falling, the short trek was bearable. She turned over her ticket, accepted the stub, and went to the ladies' room where she combed her dampened hair and freshened her lipstick before going to take her seat.

As previously, she was at the end of the row, but on the middle aisle. At the other end of the front row three women around Ginny's age had taken their seats even before Ginny arrived, and they were talking animatedly. She could hear snatches of their conversation; they were atwitter over the possibility that one of their group could be called up to sing with Harry James.

Ginny's heart sank. She had thought, since Neville had mentioned the possibility of her singing with Harry again, that he was no longer singing duets with a fan. Still, she thought her presence in the front row would be enough to let her know whether he had missed her.

The hall slowly filled up. Harry's band took the stage to enthusiastic clapping, and the lead guitarist approached the front of the stage with a portable mike. "Tonight's fan who will be singing with Harry is Emily Winston." The unknown woman shrieked from somewhere behind and to Ginny's right. "Whilst Harry is singing 'The Power of Your Touch,' please approach the left side of the stage and wait until he finishes the song when you will be allowed to join him. Thank you." The band member retreated to his spot with the band as they tuned up.

_Well, at least he won't be singing the song that he is supposed to have written for me with another woman._ She tried to take comfort in that, though it was scant, at best. _What if the magic of the duet works for her like it did for me?_ Her stomach roiled at the thought. _I shouldn't have come!_

Behind purple curtains Harry listened to Mike call Emily's name. _This is the last one,_ he vowed. _We've done this for a year now. The novelty is gone and I just don't want to do this anymore. I hope Neville took me seriously when I told him not to arrange any more._ He checked to make sure his mike was on and secure.

The lights went down to dim and The Marauders began to play a prelude. The purple curtains parted and Harry walked his loose-limbed stride to the front of the boards. Ginny's heart thudded painfully against her ribs. _He's so sexy!_ she thought, realizing that almost every other woman in attendance thought the same thing. She doubted, though, that any other woman found it painful to breathe. About a metre from the edge of the stage he stopped and said, "Good evening!"

Thousands of voices yelled back, "Good evening, Harry!"

Ginny's heart calmed to its usual rhythm.

He smiled. "Let's get this going, shall we?" Heavy applause greeted his words; he turned to Mike and nodded. His first number tonight was 'Stay,' and it never failed to bring Ginny to mind. He didn't have the leisure of thinking about her, though, which was good, so he opened his mouth and began to sing.

Down and just to the right of him Ginny shivered. That song had become her favorite because of the memories it evoked. She knew that he would pick someone out of his audience to sing to for several seconds at a time before moving on to another, and he looked to his left, finding a young woman. She waited. Before long, his gaze swept to his right and went beyond her.

"… Don't go, now that you've claimed my heart, now that I need you so…." Harry looked out into the audience at his left. On the front row a young teenager with a spotty face was gazing at him adoringly, and he focused on her, seeing her sigh. About fifteen seconds later his eyes moved to an older woman several rows back and toward the center aisle. Then he swept his eyes further to the right. Something – a head of red hair – caught his gaze before he could focus behind the mass of red and he jerked his eyes forward. _Ginny._ It _was_ Ginny; he'd thought he'd seen her at the other concert he had since touring again, but this _really was_ Ginny, and she was looking up at him. He was too much the consummate entertainer to falter, but he could not pull his stare past hers.

Ginny smiled at him, and he smiled back. Was it her imagination, or did he gaze unblinkingly at her longer than he had the other women?

Harry wasn't sure how long his eyes held Ginny's, but he suddenly realized he needed to pay attention his other listeners. He moved on but found himself giving her fleeting glances as if to reassure himself that he hadn't been mistaken. Every time he looked in her direction her whisky eyes were on him. She smiled at him and clapped at the end of each number.

Being unfamiliar with the latest song, it took Ginny several moments to realize that Harry was now singing the one Neville said he wrote for her, 'The Power of Your Touch.' She only knew it because she heard the phrase, and then she concentrated more fully on it. Harry locked eyes with her several times during the song as if to tell her it was hers. His eyes told her that no other woman had ever filled his mind as she did; no other woman ever touched his heart as she did; no other woman _aroused_ him like her touch, her kiss did. She wanted to fan herself; only the same action by the woman next to her kept her from doing so. She was afraid she was going to melt into a puddle before it was over. If he had truly written the song for her, and by his continually looking at her she didn't think Neville had lied, _why in the world did you pull away from me?_ She was so confused!

Time seemed to pass in slow motion during the song, and it felt like it was an hour later that a woman who appeared to be slightly older than Harry climbed up onto the stage. Watching the simpering woman approach him was like a bucket of cold water drenching her. Emily – somehow, though she'd rather forget it, Ginny remembered her name – had a nice, but not spectacular, voice that Harry's easily overpowered. After observing the two look at each other for several seconds she dropped her eyes. She was too jealous of this overly-lucky woman to be able to watch any further. A day later the number ended. Everyone around her was clapping, and she half-heartedly joined in. As soon as Emily – _I've always hated that name!_ – exited the stage, Harry started singing again. If she wondered whilst ignoring Harry and Emily whether she'd imagined the looks Harry had given her, she wondered no longer as his emerald gaze returned repeatedly to her.

In a daze she sat through the rest of Harry's concert, her heart pounding almost painfully whenever his eyes met hers. She recognized the rest of his songs and softly sang along until the last one. It was the other song Nev said Harry wrote for her, _I Miss You So_. As she concentrated on the words she wanted to cry. _Why did you do this to us?_ she wanted to ask him. Finally, the song came to an end. Harry thanked his fans for attending, asked for a hand for The Marauders, and backed away from the edge of the platform, his eyes once again on hers. His mouth formed the word, _stay_. She blinked. He turned and disappeared behind the grape-colored curtains.

She couldn't have moved right away if her life depended on it. Around her, fans were exuberantly chattering, gathering their things and departing. A woman behind her said, "Did you see Harry James staring at me? I swear he kept looking at me, all through the concert! How can I get in touch with him? Maybe I should wait for him?"

Her companion was more levelheaded. "Listen, Lynette, if he wants to get in touch with you he'll send someone out. Since no one seems to be coming our way, I think it's best we leave."

Ginny could hear Lynette protest for several minutes before giving in to her friend's advice. "You have a perfectly wonderful husband at home, for God's sake! Let's get out of here!"

_Was Harry looking at Lynette and not me?_ she wondered distractedly. _Am I deluding myself?_ After several minutes she shook herself and stood up, donning her jacket and then picking up her purse. She took five steps down the aisle when a voice behind her called, "Miss Weasley!" A large hand cupped her elbow momentarily.

She pivoted. "Stan?"

The beefy man smiled at her. "You got it. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you." His voice dropped, not wanting anyone else to overhear. "He wasn't sure you got what he said – he'd like you to wait for him."

An eyebrow went up. "Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am. Would you, please? He said to be sure to say, 'please'." Stan took her elbow again as if afraid she was going to leave anyway.

Docilely she let him lead her backstage. "Stay here, Nev will be here in a couple minutes."

People she hadn't met smiled and greeted her by name as they bustled by her. A blond woman brought her a cushioned folding chair to sit on; she smiled and thanked her.

The slender woman, about the same age as Ginny, thanked her in return. "I'm Hannah, Neville's wife. Both of us are so glad you came. He didn't think you would."

"I didn't, either," Ginny confessed. "I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

"Shall I pinch you to find out?" Hannah offered with a grin.

Ginny laughed. "No, thank you. If I'm dreaming, I'd like to enjoy it a bit longer."

Hannah chuckled. "Nev will be back for you in a few minutes. Would you like a glass of ice water? I can bring one to you."

"No, but thank you."

"All right." Hannah lowered her voice. "The ladies' WC is that way, can't miss the big sign on the door in case you need it." She pointed to Ginny's left.

"Thanks." Ginny watched Hannah walk in the same direction Stan had gone.

She sat lost in thought, not noticing when traffic past her petered off. She was remembering the dates she and Harry had, how very much she enjoyed his company and his attention. She thought about the songs he wrote for her. The longer she reminisced, though, anger at his abrupt desertion began to rise in her. Her purse was perched on her lap, and suddenly she slung the long strap over her shoulder and prepared to stand. Long legs clad in navy slacks with a crisp crease down the front of each leg ending in trainer-shod feet stopped in front of her. She raised her head and looked into emerald eyes, eyes she had once felt she could almost drown in. _Fury rose up in her, stronger than the anger she felt before looking into his eyes. Almost of its own volition, her foot tapped as if to suggest a way to let Harry know how she felt about his desertion. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, she found the means to leash her temper and refrained from stomping on his toes._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Excuses**

Harry smiled and held out a hand to help her up. "Thank you for waiting for me." When she took his hand, he swept his other through his still-damp hair that did nothing to control it.

Her anger kept her from answering him but she nodded. Though there were just a few people near them, she felt it best to say nothing until she and Harry were alone.

"I know you're most likely angry with me," she arched an eyebrow at him, "and I don't blame you if you are. May I take you home? I'd like to talk with you."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "How will _you_ get home then?"

"I'll get a hotel room and Stan will pick me up in the morning."

"You do this kind of thing often, then?"

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "No, but I _have_ had a little too much to drink a time or two. He gets paid overtime."

"Maybe he has plans in the morning."

"Erm, I took the liberty of checking with him, and he's available. I'm hoping I can prevail upon you to drop me at the hotel later."

Ginny buttoned up her jacket and looked for an exit sign. "We'll see, won't we?"

If Harry was dismayed, he didn't show it. "May I take you home, then? We can stop for a bite if you're hungry." He paused. "Which way did you come into the Omni?"

"Harry, I'm so turned around I really don't know," she replied with a trace of impatience.

"Let's go out front, through the hall. Once we get outside you might recognize some landmarks."

"Undoubtedly," she snapped, "since the car park will likely be empty by now, or nearly so."

"Probably," Harry answered neutrally. "This way."

He turned to her left and led the way to a door. Holding it open for Ginny, he followed her through. Side by side they trod the central aisle, passing the seat she had occupied. The doors to the lobby were open, and they walked through and out the main entrance. Night had fully fallen, and the temperature, not all that warm to begin with, had dropped. The rain had stopped, though there were puddles to be skirted. Ginny hunched her shoulders against the wind as she peered around them.

"Over there." She pointed to her car which sat by itself in the halo of a street lamp. She set off at a brisk walk and Harry again followed. As they drew near her little Ford, she dug her keys out of her purse and held them out to Harry.

"If you're going to drive me home, you'll need these."

Harry accepted them and used her remote to unlock her doors. She went around to the passenger side and got in without waiting for him to open it. With a mental sigh he slid in behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition, and started the motor.

"Are you hungry enough to eat now or would you rather wait awhile?"

Ginny was looking out the side window. "It doesn't matter," she replied. Beneath her calm exterior she was a bundle of nerves, feeling a maelstrom of anger, relief, confusion, sadness, and, though she loathed admitting it, a touch of excitement.

Harry's lips tightened momentarily. _She has every reason to be angry,_ he reminded himself. _Maybe the best thing to do is get her home so we can talk without being interrupted or overheard._ "We'll wait then. Do you have a favorite place for take away?" he asked suddenly.

"Danny's on East Seventh. It's about ten minutes from my flat."

Harry stopped the car at a red light. "Do you have their number in your cell phone?"

"Amazingly enough, I do. You want to order something?"

"What do you recommend?"

"They have a wide array of heroes, but they also do very good steak and fried chicken meals."

"What's your favorite?"

"They have a chicken parmesan hero I'm partial to."

"Do they do a steak hero?"

"A shaved steak and grilled onion one."

"Then if you wouldn't mind calling, I'll take that."

"The longest they take to prepare food is twenty minutes. I'll wait until we're about that far away before I call."

Harry figured she agreed with his silent wish to have a conversation at her place, _if at all,_ because she reached over and turned on the radio. Neither said anything for half an hour when Harry's taped voice came on singing "The Power of Your Touch."

Harry laughed. "You're welcome to change the station if you don't care to listen to me again tonight."

"I'll leave it there."

Harry chuckled. "Should I feel complimented?"

"I suppose. You do have a very nice voice." Her voice was as neutral as his had been earlier.

_This isn't going to be easy,_ Harry warned himself. _And it shouldn't be. You've hurt her, probably pretty badly. You need to crawl on hands and knees as long as she wants you to if you want her back. And there's no question about that._

Ten minutes later Ginny called their dinner order in. Harry noticed that she seemed to relax afterward, allowing her head to fall against the seat back. He hoped that boded well for him.

When they got to the outskirts of Manchester, Ginny started directing Harry to Danny's. Because it was a bit late, they had no problem finding a parking spot on the same side of the street as the diner. He left the car idling to keep her warm and went inside to pay for and pick up their meals, returning to the car in just a couple minutes. From there he once again followed her directions to her flat.

The wind was kicking up again, the turning leaves rattling overhead, so they wasted no time getting inside. She handed him a hanger, hung up her own coat and then went to the kitchen to put the teapot on and get out plates, utensils, and serviettes.

"What can I do to help?" Harry asked when he stood near the kitchen benchtop.

She was carrying the sugar and creamer and pushed them at him. "Put them on the table."

He complied without saying anything. The teapot whistled, so he waited at the table for her, staying on his feet until she was seated.

"Ginny –"

"Let's eat first, please."

So they did. He helped her clear the table, following her instructions where to put things.

Finally, they were back in the lounge. Harry allowed her to sit first before choosing a seat. He didn't think she'd appreciate his sitting on the sofa near her so he settled himself in one of her armchairs. "May I talk now?" he asked, and she nodded. He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "I want to give you my most sincere, heartfelt apologies. I realize it seemed as if I dropped off the edge of the earth. I was rude –"

Ginny snorted derisively but said nothing.

"You have every reason to be angry with me and hate me. I have hope that you don't hate me simply because you attended my concert tonight." He paused.

"No, I don't hate you," she confirmed with a sigh, almost seeming disappointed that she couldn't muster up the hatred.

"Good. That's good," he said fervently. "I don't know why I backed away from you…"

Harry paused, knowing that if this was his only shot, he wouldn't waste it on half truths and hidden emotions. "Actually, that's not true. You see, I was burned very badly whilst at uni."

He told her his story: he was twenty and the girl (he never said her name) nineteen when they met at a school-sponsored dance and fell hard and fast for each other. Though they weren't in the same year, they were soon happy to learn they did have a couple classes in the same buildings. They met up at the library often to study together. She'd gone to a couple of the pubs where he was singing for pin money and thought he would go far. She was very supportive of his desire to see where his talent would take him.

One afternoon when they'd been together almost a year, he'd left her at the library whilst he went to class; she planned to stay at their table and study with a friend who was just getting out of her own class. When he got to class, though, he found a note his professor had posted on the closed door cancelling the session because of a family emergency. Harry was just turning around to return to the library and his girlfriend when Neville, who was in the same class, arrived, a trifle late. They talked about how fortunate Nev was that the class had been cancelled since their instructor frowned on tardiness. After talking for five or so minutes, Nev went back to the dorm and Harry to the library.

Once there Harry decided to play a prank on his girlfriend, one she'd played on him some months earlier. He went down the aisle of books behind the table where he knew she would be. Bending down a bit, he removed an autobiography from a shelf behind where she had been sitting; her muted voice let him know she was still there. Carefully he pulled the book from the shelf backing up to where he was and got down on one knee, intending to whisper her name. But then, he heard her say his name, and it wasn't at all in the tone she usually used. Concerned, he listened as she told her friend smugly that she had Harry right where she wanted him, as her ticket to riches and fame. They'd started having sex a month before – Harry blushed lightly when he said this – and told him she was going on a contraceptive, and she did that. But she was going to wait several months and then tell him she was pregnant, that the pill must have failed. He would marry her because he was such a 'noble prat.' He would continue school whilst she dropped out to have the baby, only she was going to have a 'miscarriage.' She'd then talk him into waiting to have children.

Ginny stared at him in horror.

"I was numb. I rounded the stacks in a daze. Her eyes got so big when she saw me, it was … almost comical. I just said 'goodbye' and left in a hurry, going down the stairs to lose her. She tried calling me and coming to see me at my dorm I don't know how many times but I refused to see or listen to her."

Harry blew out a breath, rubbing his palms along his trousers. "I'm sure you're wondering what this has to do with you."

Ginny nodded, her face carefully blank.

"I've had a tough time trusting my judgement since then. There I was, in the studio but at the same time writing this song about you and it suddenly felt like déjà vu. I knew I'd fallen for you but when I started singing what I wrote, just how hard and fast hit me. I didn't know how to slow things down so I just … shut it down." He was watching her as he confessed all of his feelings, and he could tell that though she sympathized with his emotions at his former girlfriend's perfidy, she didn't appreciate being lumped in the same group.

"It didn't take me all that long to realize I was making a big mistake, but I didn't know how to rectify it."

"All you had to do was _talk to me_! Just like you're doing now!" Ginny rose from her seat and paced. "And now you want to come back to me, want to pick up where we left off?"

"Ginny, I swear, I'll never do that again! I know I hurt you but, believe me, I hurt myself just as much."

"No!" She whirled and pointed a finger at him. "You do _not_ get to compare the depth of your emotions to mine!" Her fists were rapidly opening and closing, her fingers stiff when they were spread. "You didn't trust _me_ even though I gave you no reason not to! You, on the other hand, have given me plenty of reason _not to trust you_!"

"I love you, Ginny, and I'm really sorry – I'll…."

This did not appease her. "Unh-unh. Don't even go there. I'm not going to accept that. You don't treat someone you love like that."

He sat just looking up at her, deflated. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

She ran out of steam abruptly, her shoulders slumping. "I don't know, Harry. I just don't know. How am I supposed to trust you now?" She turned her back to him.

"If you'll give me the chance, I'll show you that you can." He suddenly felt as tired as Ginny looked just then.

Even to Ginny he sounded emotionally drained. "I can't give you an answer right now. I think it's best if you call that cab."

"May I talk with you, see you in the morning?"

"You may call me."

He went past her to the coat closet and fished his cell phone out of his inside jacket pocket. Ginny handed him a phone directory that was a couple years out of date but he took it, found a listing for a taxi company, and called. "They said a cab would be here in five minutes," he told her after disconnecting the phone call.

Shrugging the jacket on, he stood forlornly near the stairwell. "I really am very, very sorry, Ginny," he said after several minutes. "The cab should be here any time so I'll go. You, you look tired."

She ignored his observation. "Thanks for dinner." As Harry stepped down a stair she followed. "You may remember that I go to church every Sunday. You can call me around lunchtime." She stopped two steps above the landing where the door was.

"Thank you. You'll be hearing from me," he paused at the door, "I'm sorry I let my past, my ghosts, come between us. It was no excuse to hurt you like I have."

She just nodded, her arms crossed in front of her. Harry realized she wouldn't appreciate him even trying to shake her hand, let alone hug her, so he just opened the door and stepped outside. The door clicked shut behind him, and he heard her throw the deadbolt. Slowly he walked down the sidewalk to the street to wait for the cab to come. Turning his head, he looked up toward Ginny's flat. Her lights were already off.

Ginny slept fitfully that night, waking often. Each time their conversation ran through her mind she became more uncertain, and when her alarm went off at eight, she was no closer to knowing how she was going to answer him when he called than she had been when he left. He had hurt her immensely, and she didn't know if she had it in her to open herself up to possibly more heartache. Bleary-eyed, she showered, dressed, and went off to church. As she listened to the Gospel readings and homily, she finally felt some peace. When the time came, she would know what to tell him, even if she didn't at that moment.

During the cab ride to the hotel Harry had plenty to think about. _You can tell she has a number of older brothers – she doesn't take any prisoners! I'll bet she's hell on wheels with them. I'm almost surprised I still have my bits! There must be a way to convince her I really am sorry and want us to get back together._ After a moment, he thought, _Flowers! Girls love receiving flowers. But what's her favorite? _A little more pondering brought back the conversation they'd had after the Manchester concert. '_I love peonies,'_ she'd said. Unfortunately, he had no idea what peonies looked like or whether they were available this time of year. He decided he needed to place a call to Hannah in the morning. She would know.

His sleep that night was restless, full of dreams of recriminations, mostly to himself from himself, but at least one with Ginny looking at him with loathing. Flowers might help, but the way she'd looked at him – well, at least they couldn't make things worse.

It was almost ten Sunday morning before he rolled out of bed, bleary eyed; he had an hour before he had to check out of the hotel. That was all right with him – he would call Stan after taking a cold shower to wake himself up and then find a place to get breakfast. After contemplating his situation with Ginny during his shower, he concluded that he should extend his stay by a night.

First, he called Neville and spoke with him briefly. By the time they ended the call Harry swore his best friend was laughing up his sleeve at him. He seemed entirely too optimistic about things. Then again, he hadn't seen the hardness in Ginny's expression, nor the softness of only a few months ago.

The conversation with Stan also was short; he was to pick up Nev and Hannah and go by Harry's for his car but also for two complete changes of clothing from the skin out (he only trusted Nev to do that if Hannah went with him). The front desk had provided him with a toothbrush and paste. Then Nev and Hannah would drive Harry's convertible to Manchester, with Stan following to take them back home to Bristol. The trip to and from Manchester would take up much of their day, but both men were sympathetic to Harry's plight; besides, Stan was getting overtime pay, and Nev and Hannah had been promised a night on the town by Harry.

The hotel had a restaurant that served Sunday brunch so Harry didn't have far to go after making arrangements to stay over another night. After filling his plate with a good variety of foods, he tucked in. Once replete, he glanced at his watch. Five minutes after noon. Time to call and get the verdict.

Ginny was puttering in her kitchen, cleaning up after her breakfast, her cell nearby, when it rang. Harry's name popped up on the screen; she dried her hands and, after grasping it, took a deep breath to calm herself. "Hello, Harry."

"Hullo, Ginny. How are you?"

"Very tired. And you?"

"The same. Have you made a decision about … about us?"

She sighed audibly, and Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "I have. I'll, I'll give you another chance." She heard him exhale, or perhaps sigh in relief. "But if you mess this up, Potter, that's it. There is no 'third time's a charm' in this relationship."

"I understand, Ginny, and I promise I won't mess it up," he replied humbly and sincerely. "I'll do my best to make it up to you."

She wasn't sure what to say to that; demurring would be wrong because he _did_ need to make things right, so she just said, "All right."

He cleared his throat. "Are you going to be home for dinner today?"

She hesitated, thought about lying, then decided it would be best to be as honest with him as she expected him to be with her. "Yes, but … I need some space today. Like I said, I'm very tired, and I get argumentative when I'm this tired. It would be best if we don't meet, if that's what you were going to suggest."

"I was, but I understand. I'll call you tomorrow if that's okay?"

"Yes, I'll look forward to it."

Harry hesitated. "Those songs I wrote for you? I meant every word in them."

"I'll have to listen to them again," she answered. "So much happened yesterday that I don't remember everything."

"I'll send you the lyrics," he offered, but she turned him down.

"I'd rather listen, but thanks."

"It's okay. I'll call you tomorrow evening."

"I think that's a step in the right direction if we want to mend 'us'."

"I do want that, and … well, I hope you sleep well tonight."

"Same for you."

They said their good-byes and hung up. Ginny was strangely reluctant to terminate the connection, but she really was telling the truth about being quarrelsome when exhausted as she was at the moment. She yawned and decided the best thing she could do now was take a bit of a kip, so she turned toward her bedroom.

Late in the afternoon Ginny was preparing all the ingredients for shepherd's pie and began to wish she'd been less aloof with Harry. _How are we going to reconnect if I push him away? If we're going to – reconcile – we need to see each other. But do I want to just dive in as if this never happened? No,_ she answered herself instantly._ I want to make sure I can trust him, that he won't do this again. So, what? Keep it light, I guess. _She glanced at the clock.

_By this time, he's surely back – or on his way back to – wherever it is he lives. That's another thing – he needs to be upfront about where he's living. I'd think he'd trust me enough with that information! Yesterday was the first time he's really opened up to me about anything._

Everything was now ready to put together. The last thing she did was spread the smashed potatoes over the mince before covering it with tin foil and sliding it into the oven.

Five minutes later her cell phone rang, and a glance at the screen revealed the caller to be Harry. "Hi, Harry," she greeted him, her voice a little warmer than before. It was amazing how much good that nap had done for her. "How far home have you gotten?"

"Hi, Ginny. Erm, I haven't left Manchester yet. There's something I want to tell you –."

"Why don't you come over, then? I just put a shepherd's pie in the oven, and I'm going to pair it with a salad. There's plenty."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It'll be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Is there anything I can bring?"

"I have no ale, so if you want some, you'll need to bring it."

"I know you don't drink ale – is there some wine I can pick up, too?"

"No, I've got an open bottle here. Don't be late, Potter," she warned him lightly but seriously.

"I will be there before the food is out of the oven," he assured her.

He was as good as his word, arriving barely fifteen minutes later. Ginny placed the bowl of salad on the table before going to let him in. She took the ale from him, pointed at the closet, and told him to hang up his jacket. He chuckled as she headed back to the kitchen.

"It smells delicious," Harry commented, sniffing appreciatively.

"Umm. I hope it lives up to your expectations, but if any daughter of Molly Weasley got to adulthood and _couldn't_ cook Molly would have her hide. And she did on numerous occasions, when I whinged about having to help her."

She changed the subject so quickly Harry blinked. "Am I going to like what you want to tell me?"

He smiled a bit nervously. "I hope so. See, the thing is, I was thinking – "

"Don't strain your brain, Potter," she grinned cheekily.

Surprised but encouraged by her unexpectedly relaxed demeanor with him, he rolled his eyes. "Are you through?" When she nodded, the grin still on her face if slightly narrower, he continued. "I was thinking that if we're going to do this, we need to see each other more often. So, I'm going to find a place here in Manchester. If you have no objections, that is."

Ginny's eyebrows had climbed almost to her hairline. "Answer something for me – where do you live now?"

"I thought I told you."

"Nope."

"After all the time we dated before I didn't tell you?" She shook her head. "Bristol. It's a bit over two hours from here, which makes it difficult for us to see each other during the week. If I get a place here, I can take you to dinner weeknights or cook for you."

"What about your career? Practices?"

"I, erm, talked with Stan and Nev this afternoon. I can drive down there in the morning and be back here by the time you get off work. If the guys come up here, they can carpool."

The timer dinged, beckoning Ginny back to the kitchen. Harry followed her. "What do you think?"

She raised a finger, indicating she needed time. It wasn't until they were seated at the table with their plates loaded that she went back to Harry's question. "What do I think of you getting a flat here?" He nodded. "You know we probably won't see each other every night, right?" He nodded again. "Then, yeah, it sounds like a plan."

When she hadn't answered him right away, he'd begun to sweat, thinking she wasn't in favor of it. "Good, good." Harry smiled. "I started looking once Stan got here with my car. Nev and Hannah were right behind him, so we all had some tea and conversation and then they left. I thought about surprising you but Hannah said I should talk it over with you first."

"Good call, Hannah," she told the absent young woman. "Where are you going to look?"

"Closer to downtown, so I can rent in a place with secure parking and a doorman just in case someone recognizes me. I've never had a problem but my luck's bound to run out sometime. I'll put you on the access list."

"That would be helpful if you're going to cook dinner for me. You _can_ cook, right?"

"My godfather made sure of it. He predicted there would be times at uni that I'd get tired of cafeteria fare, and he was right. I had a two-burner cook plate so I could do a meat and a veg. Nev was happy to join me whenever I made a meal."

"When do you envision moving here?"

"Hopefully this week." He took another bite of the pie and, after chewing and swallowing it, he licked his lips. "This is really good!"

Ginny smirked. "Told ya!" She was enjoying talking and joking with Harry; she had missed this the last couple months. They'd get back to their former lightness soon, but today was progress. "So, this week?"

"Yeah. I might rent a furnished place for a bit. It depends on what I can find."

The topic finished, at least for the time being, Harry asked about Ginny's job, and she told him that things hadn't changed much. They talked about her family and his family of friends. Whilst they talked, they finished eating, and Harry helped her clean up. She was pleased to note that there was only enough of the meal left over for her to take to work for lunch one day this week. Either it was as good as she'd hoped, or Harry was an excellent actor.

Once finished in the kitchen, they settled at opposite ends of the couch, turned towards each other. Licking her lips – Ginny didn't notice Harry's eyes watch the path the tip of her tongue took – she began almost hesitantly. "Harry, yesterday you told me why you … broke up with me. I think you need to know what I went through."

Harry nodded, hoping that it would help their relationship heal.

"Your … defection caught me totally off guard. Totally. I didn't think much about it when you cancelled our date or even when you didn't call me that Monday.

"It took a little bit before I realized that you had _lied_ to me, that you had never intended to call me again. I was baffled. I don't know how often I racked my brain trying to figure out what I had done to … turn you off, or turn you away. I kept asking myself, did I miss something?" Her voice trembled slightly.

Harry moved as if he was going to slide next to her and take her in his arms, and she raised a hand as if to ward him off. Her voice firmer again, she went on, "I was devastated. I'd thought we had something pretty special going for us, and I began to doubt myself.

"I understand that you went through a very rough time yourself. The thing is, Harry, we all, or the vast majority of people, experience disappointments in their," she cleared her throat, "dating lives. It would have been kinder to just tell me you wanted a break. Instead you took the coward's way out."

Harry winced at hearing that, but he couldn't very well argue the point. Before he had a chance to comment, though, Ginny continued. "If … if you decide at some point in our new relationship that it's just not working for you, have the decency to tell me. Preferably to my face. But I meant what I said yesterday – this is your last chance. I'm not a yoyo, and I won't be played like one."

Harry waited a minute to see whether she had finished talking. She was picking at a cuticle of one finger and glanced up at him and then quickly away. He took that to mean she was waiting for his response.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted softly. "Ginny, I know I bollocksed things up. Those months we dated were the happiest of my life. I want that again, more than I can tell you. I don't foresee walking away from you again, but I promise I will talk with you before anything like that happens once more."

Ginny nodded solemnly. "I'd appreciate that."

They lapsed into silence, but, surprisingly, it wasn't an awkward one.

Harry found his energy was beginning to flag and checked the time: half nine. Looking at Ginny carefully, he saw that she, too, was beginning to droop, not a surprise since she'd gotten up several hours earlier than he did, even if she did tell him at dinner that she'd had a short nap. The thought that perhaps she hadn't slept any better last night than he crossed his mind. "It's getting late, Ginny, and I know you're probably getting tired." At her nod, he continued, "I'll be on my way and let you turn in. As soon as I figure out what I'm doing tomorrow I'll call and let you know."

"That sounds like a plan."

They both stood and she followed him to the closet where he pulled out his jacket and donned it. As he readied to leave, he looked at her in speculation, wary fatigue etched on her face and body, wondering if she would allow him to kiss her. In answer she approached him, went up on tiptoe, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. _I should've figured it wouldn't be that easy, even with her unexpected dinner invitation._

"Let's get together tomorrow evening, yeah?"

Ginny was studiously ignoring the tingle she felt when her lips touched his cheek. "Yeah." She moved away and followed him to the door. It was a start.

**AN:** As always, many thanks to gryffindormischief, who beta'd this for me. The angst is pretty much over with fluff ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Making It Work**

When Ginny returned to her office after lunch the next afternoon, she stopped half way to her desk. Sitting in the middle of her calendar pad was a beautiful cut-glass vase containing half a dozen large, gorgeous yellow peonies. A smile slowly spread across her face as she approached her work station. Already the air was redolent with the sweet, delicate scent of her favorite flowers.

She sat in her chair and wheeled up to her desk, her fingers touching the creamy petals. _You did good, Potter,_ she addressed him mentally. Digging into her shoulder bag, she pulled

out her call phone and quickly keyed in, _Love the peonies. Thank you_, and added an emoticon of a flower. Then she sent the text on its way.

Very quickly she received an answer – a winking face blowing a kiss.

She sat back in her chair and just gazed at the vase and its contents. In the eight-plus months before their break-up, Harry hadn't sent her flowers even once.

The ringing of her desk phone broke into her reverie. With a quiet sigh, she moved the vase to the credenza next to the desk and picked up the phone receiver. Time to get back to work.

By the time five o'clock rolled around, Ginny was more than ready to leave for the day. It had been a hectic afternoon, with one call coming in almost as soon as she had taken care of a previous customer. She took one last sniff of the peonies' delicate, rose-like scent. At the door she looked one last time at the bouquet before pulling her office door shut.

Gloria Stevens, CHR's office administrator, was locking her desk as Ginny walked through. "Busy afternoon, yeah?" Gloria had poked her head into the redhead's office a couple times only to find the receiver stuck to Ginny's ear.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "And then some!"

"So who was your benefactor?" Gloria inquired.

Ginny didn't pretend to not know what Gloria meant. "Oh, uh, Harry and I got back together this weekend."

Gloria hadn't known much about Ginny's relationship with Harry beyond his name, that they'd broken up at the beginning of the summer, and that the younger girl had seemed devastated by the break up.

"Aw, isn't love grand?"

"Who said anything about love?" Ginny immediately replied, though she felt a bit of the mortar in the wall she built between her and Harry weaken.

"Honey," Gloria responded pertly, "when a guy goes to the trouble to find out-of-season flowers that not every florist carries _in_ season, that's gotta be love."

"Well, I let him know he was going to have to grovel."

"So far, so good, I'd say."

The two women were now walking through the company car park, with Gloria reaching her car first. Bidding each other cheerful good-nights, the women parted, with Ginny continuing on to her auto. She settled into the driver's seat behind the wheel, buckled up, and turned the ignition. Pulling into traffic, she had to laugh – the deejay on her favorite station had just cued Harry's song, "Stay." It seemed a good omen.

She hadn't been home five minutes before her phone rang, and it was Harry calling. After exchanging 'hello's' and 'how are you's,' she said, "The peonies you sent me are brightening up my office and making it smell heavenly. Thank you."

The smile on his face was almost audible. "I'm glad you like them. I wondered if you'd leave them there or take them home."

"Since I spend so much of my waking time there, I'll leave them until Friday. They're really pretty."

"Not as pretty as you are," he told her earnestly, and she struggled to suppress a smile; somehow he managed to pull off the slight cheesiness believably. "I was wondering if you would have dinner with me?"

"That sounds nice. What time shall I be ready?"

"Erm, twenty minutes from now?"

She agreed, and as soon as they hung up, she set about changing into something more casual, which took longer than it should have because she couldn't decide what to wear, then brushing her teeth, refreshing her make up, and combing her hair. When Harry knocked on her door, she grabbed her jacket and shoulder bag and practically skipped down the stairs, telling herself that she was just happy not to have to cook; she refused to acknowledge that nagging thought that her happiness had much more to do with Harry.

Harry's eyes feasted on Ginny when she opened the door. She looked so lovely, her glorious red hair streaming down her back. Her jacket hung open revealing a vibrant blue jumper over denims that were tucked into brown wedge-heeled boots. "I'm starving," she greeted him, willing her eyes not to roam anywhere below his neck.

"That's good," he assured her. "We're going back to Franco's if that's okay." Franco's had been a favorite of theirs when they dated earlier in the year.

"Brilliant," she declared as she buttoned several buttons on the jacket. She locked the door before leaving the porch at his side.

Over dinner he told her, "I searched all over Manchester and finally, just before we talked on the phone, signed a rental agreement." He mentioned that he'd leased his new flat from its absent owner, adding where it was and that he was able to add her name to the access list. The flat came furnished, so all he needed to do was transport his personal items. He told her further that he'd be leaving Wednesday morning, 'relatively early' so it wouldn't be too late when he returned, in order to get what he needed and have a practice session. "If all goes to plan, maybe we can go out Wednesday evening?"

She smiled easily at him. "Why don't you text me when you're ready to leave there and you can let me know whether you're up to it?"

"That sounds like a good idea."

"Tell me about your flat," Ginny invited.

Harry said it had two bedrooms with a bathing room for each bedroom. There was a fireplace in the lounge and a balcony on the front of the flat. It was on the fourth floor accessible by a lift.

"I would hope so," she laughed, "unless you plan on getting lots of exercise."

"Only on days when it rains too badly to go for a run." He smiled when she looked impressed.

"So you go running every day?"

"Not _every_ day, but most."

"I'm a real slug compared to you," she confessed, wondering how she didn't know this about him.

"Maybe you'll have to start running with me."

"Maybe," she said, noncommittally. "I'm more of a yoga girl."

They chatted for a bit after they finished dinner; then Ginny looked at her watch and sighed with regret. "I'm afraid it's time for me to get back home."

"No pudding?" he tempted her.

She frowned. "Not for me, especially not with you telling me how much exercise you get."

Harry helped her with her jacket, left a nice tip for their waitress, and paid their tab at the register before they walked hand-in-hand back to his car.

At her place Harry accompanied her inside just to the bottom of the staircase. "Shall I bring Thai take away tomorrow evening?"

She nodded. "Same time as tonight?"

Harry agreed. As on the previous night, she went up on tiptoe and brushed his cheek with a kiss.

That week they got together four of the five weeknights – Wednesday evening she told Harry that she would fix bangers and mash when he called at half three to inform her he was leaving Bristol; Thursday evening was the only one where Ginny was feeling too stressed and tired from her workday and wanted an early evening. She also wanted to test his response to her decision. Harry was disappointed but understanding. Ginny continued to be standoffish as far as physical displays of affection went. Otherwise, she appeared open to Harry, and they laughed and exchanged talk about their days, current events, as well as Nev, Hannah, and the other men and women who worked with Harry.

It wasn't until the second weekend in October that Ginny allowed things to progress – or rather, revert to what had been in June. Harry told Ginny he would cook for her that Sunday evening, but wanted to spend as much of the day with her as possible since his concert Saturday evening precluded them from seeing each other that day. He offered to pick her up for church that morning, take her out for breakfast, take in a matinee, and then they could head to his flat where he would fix their meal. She liked what he'd planned and agreed. The only problem was, there was nothing showing that either of them wanted to see. Instead they went back to his flat and watched television whilst playing cribbage. He'd decided to make stuffed pork chops with roasted artichoke hearts and brown rice. Late in the afternoon he excused himself for a bit to prepare the pork chops and artichoke hearts for the oven. He put the chops into the oven with a timer that would alert him when it was time to put the artichoke hearts in, too, and when the rice needed to be started. Then he went back to Ginny and the game they were knee deep in.

They sat down to dinner at half six, and everything was delicious. They'd talked whilst playing cribbage but still found things to talk about over dinner. It had been this way from the beginning, their relationship an even, comfortable flow aside from the heady feeling when things progressed in _other_ areas. Afterwards Harry cleared up, steadfastly refusing to allow Ginny to do anything.

"You're spoiling me, you know."

"And I'll keep doing it until you tell me you're sick of it," he told her with a grin.

"Not going to happen," she warned him playfully.

At nine o'clock Ginny reluctantly told Harry she needed to get back home. She, after all, had an office job and needed to be there on time.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, just as reluctant to bring the day to an end. "I've really enjoyed the day."

"Me, too, Harry. You're a great host … and cook! I wish I could stay longer."

Harry started to say something but held his tongue. They weren't yet back to where they had been when he foolishly stepped away from the best relationship he'd ever had. He suspected if this reunion with Ginny didn't work, he wouldn't have another any better. Silently he helped her with her jacket and they made their way down to his car.

They traveled to Ginny's mostly in silence. Harry wished he knew what she was thinking and wondered if things _would_ get any better between them. He was beginning to feel more like one of her brothers rather than a love interest. Okay, siblings didn't hold hands, at least not at their age, but they didn't do anything more than peck each other's cheek, either. Maybe forgiveness could only go so far. Maybe she'd really moved on.

At Ginny's place Harry parallel parked, got out, and went around to her side of the car. She waited for him to open her door, something she didn't ordinarily do. Harry took her hand to help her out, and she continued to hold it. As they walked the pavement, fallen leaves crunched under their feet.

Ginny was feeling very mellow. Today was the longest unbroken time they'd had together, and it reminded her of what was so good about their relationship – or at least, part of what was so good. She peeked at Harry from the corner of her eye. He seemed deep in thought. Her heart swelled. He was being very patient with her. She ignored the voice that said, _After what he did, he needs to be._

He waited whilst she unlocked the door and was set to turn away when she surprised him by inviting him in. "Don't you have things you need to do before you turn in?"

"Yes," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean we can't have one last cuppa together."

_Perhaps she wants our day together to last longer as much as I do._ He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and stepped inside, following her up the stairs.

Over tea they talked about the possibilities for getting together during the coming week. Harry planned to drive down to Bristol Tuesday and Thursday for some practice sessions ahead of a concert Saturday afternoon in Wales, but he still hoped to get together with her those evenings and all the others in the week. Ginny acquiesced with reservations – if he was too tired after returning either day or her work schedule was too hectic, they could call it off.

"I was thinking I could pick up a pizza on my way home from work tomorrow. There's that new place that will make them to order but customers take them home to bake them."

"That has possibilities," Harry agreed. "I like –"

"Sausage, mushrooms, and green peppers," Ginny finished for him. "I'll make sure half of it's done that way."

Though he was impressed and gratified that she remembered his favorite toppings, he didn't say anything more than, "Half five then?" He placed his empty cup back on the saucer and rose.

"Give me an additional fifteen minutes, just in case there's a line at the place. If traffic's bad just wait for me and I'll be here as soon as I can."

She accompanied him down the stairs, and he decided to try to move things along a little further. She was standing up one stair from him; he moved closer to her and put his arms around her waist, giving her a brief hug and dropping a kiss on her lips.

He put his hand on the doorknob, intending to leave then, but her hand on his arm stopped him. "Harry, thank you for the day. It was … very, very nice."

Turning back to her, he closed the little distance between them and with one arm gathered her even closer than before, her acceptance of his previous kiss making him optimistic. Bold even. The fingers of his other hand slid through the long, satiny tresses of her hair, causing their wild flower scent to fragrance the air around them, and cupped the back of her neck. Slowly, giving her time to stop him if she still thought this was too early, he brought her face toward his. When she didn't protest, instead sliding her arms onto his chest, he covered her waiting, slightly parted lips with his and slipped his tongue inside. Her breasts pressed against his chest when she inhaled with pleasure, Ginny sorely tried his resolve to keep his hands from wandering

Ginny's hands crept up to Harry's shoulders and her arms wrapped around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Her blood was sizzling in her veins, her heart pounding in her chest. Too soon he stepped back from her, both of them struggling to breathe.

She looked at him bemusedly. "Can I ask you something?"

When he nodded, she questioned, "That ex-girlfriend of yours, is she why you've never, erm …." She was too embarrassed to go on.

Fortunately, Harry seemed to be on her wave length. "Tried to get you into bed?"

She made a noise of agreement.

"That's a part of it. I didn't know whether you were protected, and I don't carry any so I _have_ to control … myself, even when I don't particularly want to." He rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. "You are … you tempt me mightily. I've been trying to stay on my best behavior but I have to tell you it's really … difficult."

Ginny swallowed and her voice became softer. "I wondered, when you quit calling, if there was someone else, or if you didn't desire me, if that was the reason."

"Oh, God, no. I mean, no, that was the furthest thing from my mind. I desired – desire – you too much for my peace of mind." To reassure her he did the only thing he could think of at the moment, bringing her back into the circle of his arms for more, passionate snogging. As close as they were, it was easy to feel what their snogging did to him. "You see?" His voice was husky.

Her body was tingling all over; she ignored it so they could finish this conversation. "I just wasn't sure if that was just because we kissed or if you … wanted me … even before we kissed."

"Yes. Even before. All the time." Mindful of how late it was becoming, he pressed his lips to her forehead. "I'd like to continue this – the talking and the snogging – but you have to work in the morning." His curled forefinger caressed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow." A much-heartened Harry returned home, anxious to see what the new week would bring.

Ginny locked the door, and as she climbed the stairs touched her lips with her finger tips. _Mercy, the man's still got the touch. Why in the world has it taken me this long to allow him to kiss me like that again?_ Just thinking about him gave her a rush. As she slipped beneath the duvet she thought about their conversation, what she'd revealed about herself and whether she made herself too vulnerable. How was he going to react to her admissions when he'd had time to think about them? Much as she'd rather have skipped over their lost summer, Ginny was glad they'd been forced to talk things out. Since reuniting, she couldn't help but notice each of them had begun being more open and honest. It was unsettling, surely, to let someone in but despite his failings, Ginny still thought Harry was worth the risk.

For the next week Harry kept himself in check. He felt there was too much at stake for him to push her and was content with the snogging she allowed. _But, bloody hell, she sure can kiss. I love that woman. One day soon I'm going to tell her again,_ he promised himself.

Another week went by. She hadn't broken a date since the middle of September. Dare he hope he was winning her back?

At the end of October Harry had two concerts in Scotland, one on Friday evening and the other Sunday afternoon. She made plans to go home for the weekend; she hadn't seen her family since she and Harry began dating again in September. She felt it was an expedient time to go and made arrangements with Alfie Collins to leave mid-afternoon Friday so she could get to Ottery St. Mary by eight.

It was a relaxing, rare weekend when none of her brothers were expected at the homestead. Harry called around ten Saturday morning, and she excused herself to her Mum and disappeared to her old room to talk with him. After their conversation concluded she went back downstairs, and she confided to her Mum that she and Harry had renewed their relationship. When Molly Weasley's brows rose Ginny, despite her disinclination to reveal much more about it, knew what she was asking and assured her that she was making sure they took things slowly. Molly was very relieved to hear it, relaxing back in her seat, and didn't press for any more information than that.

They spent a lot of time in the kitchen Saturday baking biscuits – shortbread, oatmeal, lemon, and treacle. She packed half a dozen of each in a tin to take home with her, wanting to give Harry some. That evening she helped her Mum make shepherd's pie, part of her amused that she enjoyed the process so much now when as a pre-teen and teenager she'd whinged about having to help. She smiled at remembering how much Harry enjoyed the pie she baked the day she agreed to begin seeing him again.

Harry was most appreciative of the biscuits, particularly the treacle biscuits, when they saw each other Monday evening. He picked up a curry for their dinner and met her at her place, immediately giving her a hug and telling her he'd missed her. He asked about her weekend and listened attentively, mentally filing away comments she made about her home and especially her parents. Once clean-up was accomplished, Harry folded his dish towel and hung it on a rack before leaning against the bench and slowly, gently pulling her into his arms.

She stepped between his spread legs and allowed him to kiss her, opening her mouth to his and participating fully and enthusiastically as his lips caressed hers. After a time, their lungs about to explode, their mouths had to part so they could gulp in oxygen. Even with ragged breath, though, Harry pushed her beautiful red hair away from her face so he could forge a trail of kisses from her jawline to her ear where he traced the inside of it and tongued her lobe. She shivered and moaned from the delicious feelings he stirred inside her. Then his lips continued the path down her neck, kissing and tasting it with tiny flicks of his tongue. "_Harry,_" she moaned softly. Her hands moved restlessly from his chest to his back, caressing the length and breadth of it, her nerve endings overwhelmed by all the sensations tingling through her body, overwhelmed by _Harry_. .

It was all wonderful, but now she wanted, _needed_, his mouth on hers. She tugged his face back up to hers, slamming her mouth against his, her tongue surging into the recesses of his mouth.

Harry couldn't remember _ever_ being so aroused before, and certainly not with Destiny. Ginny was temptation personified, and every touch inflamed him. Their kisses, her body pressing against his, her hands on his back and in his hair, all combined to make him feel as if he was melting. He felt like he'd awakened a sleeping tigress and, oh, did he want more. Much more.

Air quickly became an urgent need once again, and with their lips and tongues no longer tangling sanity returned. His arms enfolded her, his hand held her head against his chest, and his chin rested lightly atop the crown of her head. "Ginny," he rasped, "we need to stop. God knows it's the last thing I want, but we need to stop." He kissed her hair, a poor substitute, lovely as it was, for her mouth.

She nodded, the friction of her head moving across his chest making his decision harder to follow through on.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I want you so badly," he whispered, unaware that he was actually speaking until she answered him.

"I noticed," she murmured in reply, not meaning to be funny, but it brought an amused smile to Harry's face.

"Minx." There was a wealth of affection in his voice.

"Tease. You're altogether too good at this, you know."

"I'm flattered you think so."

She was silent a moment. "I know you've got to go, but could you stay a little longer and just hold me?"

"Your wish is my command." _I'll stay forever if you want me to._

Her whole body was tingling. _I wish you could stay the night and just hold me._

Ten minutes and a short, light kiss later that left both wanting more, she was alone.

November arrived and flowed into December. Harry continued to want to see her every evening she made herself available for him, which was the vast majority of them. With Christmas closing in, his last concert of the year was in Dublin, and he invited Ginny to accompany him. She accepted, choosing to sit amongst the concert-goers rather than 'be in the way' backstage. Since it was a mid-day concert, they were able to make it back to Manchester instead of having to spend the night in a hotel, though the crew would stay over after breaking down and packing. It would have been a long day for them to take the ferry and drive back to Bristol.

Ginny was pleased with how well things had gone in the three plus months since she and Harry had reunited. He was as attentive as she could wish, fixing dinner for her at least once each week, taking her to dinner or taking dinner to her, sending her flowers, running errands for her whilst she was working. She smirked at that thought. _He does that as much for himself as for me since it gives us more time to spend together._ She had been to his flat a number of times, Harry picking her up at work and afterward toting her home. When that happened, he would get up the next morning to take her in. Always he was the gentleman, never pushing her further than she wanted to go.

Christmas was very quickly approaching, and she was racking her brains to come up with an idea for a gift for him.

_What do you get for the guy who has just about everything?_ She didn't know his sizes but would've felt awkward buying him clothing anyway. After purchasing a nice pair of rabbit-lined leather gloves she decided to follow the old motto, "The way to a bloke's heart is through his stomach," and the rest of his gift was foods made with his favorite ingredient – treacle.

Saturday afternoon, after spending much of the morning debating with herself, Ginny took out her cookbook and baked treacle tarts, biscuits, and toffee for Harry. The toffee would keep stored in a tightly-covered tin, but she froze the biscuits and tarts since they planned to exchange gifts the evening of the twenty-third; Ginny was going home to Devon Christmas Eve. To cover what she'd been doing, she also made a treacle pudding for him for that evening. As soon as she opened the door for Harry Saturday evening, he began to grin. "I smell treacle!"

She laughed. "Can't put anything by you, can I? We'll have it for dessert when we get back from the cinema."

Harry pouted. "You are a hard-hearted woman, making me wait through dinner and a film!"

"C'mon, you baby," she chivvied him. "Sooner we leave the sooner we get back."

Three and a half hours later she unlocked the door for them on their return.

"If I wasn't such a gentleman, I'd race you to the treacle," he told her, shutting the door behind him, blocking out the cold wind.

"You've no idea where I put it, so there's no profit in that." The smile in her sapphire-colored eyes warmed him.

"There's that," he agreed and followed sedately behind her. The best part about it was he was able to watch her climb the stairs, her shapely legs encased in nylons, her jacket short enough to show her full skirt swaying with each step she took. _Bloody hell, she's killing me and she doesn't even know it_, he thought with an appreciative grin.

He enjoyed the dessert so much he had a second helping and would have had a third except for being so full from dinner. Setting his spoon carefully on table, he patted his belly. "When you feed me like that it's no wonder I love you."

She stared at him, gobsmacked. Realizing what he had confessed, he sat stock still.

"What did you say?"

"What do you think I said?" he countered.

"Don't play games!" She was a little angry that he hadn't just answered her.

He stood up and took her by the hand, pulling her up into the circle of his arms so she melted ever so slightly into his chest. "I said I love you. When I told you that when we first got back together, you made it clear you didn't want to hear it. I wasn't going to tell you again, just yet, because I was afraid you wouldn't believe me. It just slipped out."

"Do you mean it?"

"Very much so. I told you that the night we met up again," he repeated. "That's why I wanted you back so badly. When I … left you, it was because the intensity of my feelings for you terrified me. Once I came to terms with the reality of just how much I love you I was disturbed, to put it mildly. I thought I'd blown the best part of my life. Then you came back into my life when I least expected it, and I was afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. You didn't trust me, and rightfully so. You didn't believe me before so I decided to wait a while."

Ginny cupped the back of his head and brought his face close to hers. "You're probably right, but since then you've eased my heart." She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him with everything she felt for him behind it, hoping he would understand what she couldn't yet put into words.

When their broke apart, he held her close to him, smelling her fragrant hair and relishing the feeling of her body against his. "I do love you, Ginny. I think I always will."

The sincerity in his voice brought tears to her eyes and she didn't think she could hold the sentiment back any longer. "I … ditto, Harry," she said, at the last moment unable to say the exact words or hold back the grimace at her poorly worded substitute.

Harry seemed disappointed that she hadn't expressed her emotions better but accepted it. "I know I hurt you very badly, Ginny, but I've been trying to let you see how much you mean to me. I thought you knew what I wasn't saying." He brushed aside the single tear that streaked down her cheek. "I wish I could turn back the clock and redo that time. I never would have left you."

Wordlessly she nodded. Harry held her closely, burying his face in the red cloud of her hair, breathing in her scent, departing shortly after that, taking the rest of the pudding with him and assuring her he would be by to take her to church no later than eight the next morning.

Over breakfast Sunday Ginny brought up her plans for Christmas Day, reminding him that Collins, Hollis, and Rollins were closing their office Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and that she planned to travel down to Devon the afternoon of Christmas Eve so she could go to Midnight Mass with her parents. "I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" She held her breath, not knowing how he would answer but hoping he would say yes.

Harry's hand raising a forkful of scrambled eggs arrested in mid motion. "Is it okay with them if I do?"

"Yes. Mum's a night owl, so I called her last night. She and Daddy are fine with it. There's plenty of room for you – heavens, they have six bedrooms!"

"Six? Really?"

"Yeah – you do remember I have six brothers, right? Bill and Charlie shared a room and the twins, of course, shared one. The other three of us had our own rooms. There was just too much age different between Percy and Ron to make them share, Mum said, and, of course, being the only girl, I had to have my own. Bill and his wife will be with her parents this Christmas and the other boys live close enough to stay in their own homes Christmas Eve."

"Will they go to Midnight Mass, too?"

"No. Charlie and the twins will go Christmas morning, but Percy and Ron don't attend church. It gives Mum heartburn."

Harry couldn't help laughing at that. "Then I'd love to have Christmas with you and your family." He covered her hand with his. "Thank you for asking me. This means a lot to me."

"Christmas wouldn't be as enjoyable without you there," she replied simply and Harry's heart stuttered. "I'll call Mum later and let her know you'll be there."

"When do you figure to come back to Manchester?"

Ginny thought that an odd question. "Christmas evening. We have Christmas dinner early in the afternoon. I thought I told you that. I'm taking off the rest of the week, through New Year's, but Mum and I would go spare if we had to spend all that time together with nothing specific planned. She'll be roping me into knitting or pushing me to look through Auntie Muriel's old clothes and take some home." She grinned when Harry laughed. "As if!"

Still grinning, Harry suggested, "Since we'll be going and coming back at the same time why don't I drive us and you can navigate?"

"Sounds wonderful!"

"Ah, now your plan is revealed!" he teased her. "You just want to be chauffeured."

She snapped her fingers together. "Alas, you've seen through my plot."

_**AN:**_ Once again, thank you to gryffindormischief for her wonderful work as Beta on this chapter! Thanks, too, to all of you who read and especially review the chapters!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Meeting the Family**

Christmas Eve, Harry picked Ginny up at eleven o'clock so they could grab a burger before heading down to Ottery St. Mary. Traffic wasn't as heavy as Harry feared it would be, so they were driving up the dirt lane leading to Ginny's family home shortly after five. On the trip down, Ginny tried to prepare Harry for The Burrow, but no amount of description would do the unusual sight justice.

He thought, listening to her, that the additions to the house would make it a haphazardly sprawling home. Instead, it went up three floors, and none of them were exactly centered above the one beneath. Gobsmacked by what he saw, he stopped the car and just stared. "Did no one tell your father that burrows go underground?" he finally managed to say.

"I tried to tell you."

"Honey, you could have tried for three days to tell me and still missed what this building is." He looked over at her. "You said your Dad and his brothers did the additions?"

She nodded, warm inside at the appellation he'd called her. "Uncle Bilius – we actually call him 'Bill' – is an electrician and Uncle Alex a plumber." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Don't repeat this, but I have a feeling a lot of whiskey went into the construction of it."

He blinked but said nothing further; anything he said could be misconstrued to mean he didn't think much of the builders. Nothing could be further from the truth. Finally, he looked at her again and with a smile said, "Brilliant! It's just – brilliant! It's not a biscuit-cutter home, that's for sure!"

To his relief, Ginny laughed. "No, it's truly one of a kind."

He took his foot off the brake and they continued up the lane. Ginny instructed him to pull around to the far side of the house, near her father's work shed, and park there. Hand-in-hand they climbed the steps to the long back porch and walked almost to the other end of it where the door to the kitchen was located. Ginny pushed open the back door and walked in.

"Hi, Mum," she greeted, pulling Harry in behind her.

Molly Weasley was bustling around the kitchen. Wonderful aromas filled the room and tantalized Harry's nostrils. He could pick out the mouth-watering smell of onions and garlic, and beef roasting in the oven. On the bench next to the sink several pies sat cooling. He recognized a mince pie, and judging from the juice spilling through piercings in two others she had baked apple pies as well. His stomach grumbled appreciatively, embarrassing him greatly. Fortunately, his hostess either didn't hear it or was gracious enough to ignore it.

Mrs. Weasley whirled around at her daughter's voice, dropped the kitchen towel with which she was drying her hands onto the bench near the pies, and held out her arms as she started toward Ginny. "Hello, love," she welcomed the younger woman and gave her a tight embrace. Over Ginny's shoulder she spied Harry. "This must be your young man, then."

Harry could tell just from his girlfriend's voice that she was rolling her eyes. "Yes, Mum. This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Mum, Molly Weasley."

Harry extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

Flustered, she glanced at his hand before taking it in hers. "Welcome to The Burrow, Harry. We're very glad you could join us."

"Thank you for having me," he replied. He was relieved when Ginny spoke up again.

"Where's Daddy?"

"Where else?" Mrs. Weasley replied with a huff. "Out in the work shed. I'll go out there in a few minutes and bring him in. Dinner's almost ready."

"We'll go, Mum," her daughter offered. "We'll be right back so I can help you."

"That's a dear," was her Mum's reply, distracted now that greetings were finished.

Arthur Weasley's workshop was the sprawling building Harry had expected The Burrow to be more like. It had two space heaters, one at each end, and a wood stove in the middle to warm it. Ginny's father was at a workbench not far from the stove, wielding a screwdriver. A radio set to an oldies station was playing a sixties' tune, and Arthur was whistling along. Because of it, he didn't hear the squeal of the door being opened.

"Daddy!" Ginny raised her voice, and her father started badly enough that he dropped the screwdriver.

Spinning toward the couple, he smiled. "Hullo, Pumpkin! Mum send you out for me?"

Ginny nodded. "She says dinner is almost ready. Daddy, I'd like you to meet Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Dad, Arthur Weasley."

Harry and Arthur shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. "What are you working on, Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh, I've an old MG that I'm trying to get back on the road. It was in a junkyard, wrecked, when I found it, but I've got the body work done. Now it's the engine giving me fits. Come see it." The older man led the way to a tarp-shrouded hulk at the back of the shed.

"Harry, I've got to get back. You want to stay here or come with me?" A hand on his arm kept him next to her.

"I'll stay here, if you don't mind."

"That's fine." She went up on her toes to kiss his cheek but he turned his head to catch her lips with his in a short kiss. "Not too long, now – I don't want to have to come back out in the cold to get you two." She raised her voice. "Hear me, Dad? No more than ten minutes!"

Arthur nodded absently, busy pulling the tarp off his treasure. Harry smiled encouragingly at her, so Ginny left the two men, though not without misgivings. Then she poked her head back into the shed.

"Harry, would you please bring the bags in when you and Dad come back?"

His nod was the only answer she got as he headed toward the MG.

Fifteen minutes actually passed before the back door opened, allowing cold air to swirl inside along with Arthur and Harry, Ginny's and Harry's bags in hand. The two men were still talking about the MG, and Ginny could tell Harry was impressed with her Dad's progress with the former junker. After the newcomers washed their hands the four of them sat down to dinner.

To make sure they got seats, an hour before the midnight service Harry, Ginny, and her parents traveled to St. Augustine's church in town. Already the car park was filling up. Mr. Weasley maneuvered his Anglia into a space in the circle of a street lamp. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley sat in the car and waited for Harry and Mr. Weasley to open their car doors. Even if Ginny and Harry had not had a conversation a year earlier that, yes, he knew Ginny was perfectly capable of opening her own door, but she should let him pamper her, she would have sat, knowing that her Mum wouldn't budge until her husband came to her door and showed her the same courtesy. Mrs. Weasley put her arm in the crook of her husband's whilst Ginny and Harry held hands. His were bare, and with the biting cold she was glad she'd gotten him the gloves, even though he wouldn't receive them until the morning.

Only whispers and the sounds of fabric rustling and shoes softly hitting the carpeting of the center aisle marred the quiet until fifteen minutes before midnight when the choir filed into their seats to one side of the altar and the organist played the opening notes of 'O Little Town of Bethlehem.' At the edge of the organ keyboard stood a board with the hymn numbers selected for the evening's service. Pages fluttered as books were opened. When the choir began singing, the congregation joined them.

After the opening carol the choir segued into 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing,' followed by 'It Came upon A Midnight Clear.' Harry's and Ginny's voices blended so well that the woman on Harry's other side stopped singing and just listened to them. Privately Harry thought it was a blessing that she had stopped.

As Mr. Weasley drove them back to The Burrow later, Mrs. Weasley commented, "You two sing very well together. You've obviously sung together before."

"We go to church together every Sunday, Mum, and share a songbook there."

"Molly, Harry tells me he's a recording artist," Mr. Weasley informed her.

Molly's head swiveled sharply to peer into the back seat. "A what?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I'm, erm, a singer. Professionally." He could tell Ginny was stifling a laugh. He poked her lightly with his elbow.

"What do you sing, dear?" she asked.

"Pop, mostly. Ballads are what my voice is best tuned for, but I do on occasion get the feet stomping."

"And are you famous?"

"Erm, a bit."

"He sings under the name of Harry James, Mum," Ginny finally interjected and then held her breath.

"Harry …" her Mum's voice faltered then picked up again, "Harry _James_?"

"Yes, ma'am. Have you heard of me then?"

Ginny covered her eyes and bit her lips, but her shoulders were shaking. Harry James was one of her Mum's favorite contemporary singers.

"Ginny, dear, why have you never told me this?"

Harry was too relieved to be off the hotspot that he missed the steel in her mother's voice.

"Erm, it never came up?" was Ginny's weak reply.

"You said you met him at a concert."

"I did, Mum. I, erm, I was called up from the audience to sing a duet with him."

"And she charmed me from the first note," Harry added gallantly, which garnered him a return elbow in the ribs from Ginny.

Thick silence reigned the rest of the trip; it was obvious that Molly Weasley was digesting what she'd been told. Harry thought it was lucky that everyone was ready to turn in when they arrived back at The Burrow since it precluded any more questions or comments.

The Weasleys' bedroom was on the first floor; Ginny's was on the second, and Harry was ensconced in the twins' old room on the third floor. The loo was on the same floor as Ginny's room, and her door was open when he went back down for his ablutions. He poked his head into her bedroom when he finished cleaning up.

"Do you think your Mum will pick up questioning me where she left off in the morning?"

Ginny grinned. "I doubt it, but only because she'll be too busy, what with getting the turkey going, getting breakfast for us, and then enlisting my help with the rest of the Christmas meal."

Harry was enjoying the sight of her in her light green dressing gown, a pair of lavender pajama pants sticking out beneath it, and especially the bunny slippers on her feet, and struggled to keep a grin from showing on his face. "What time is breakfast? Maybe I can help her."

"Eight, but if you help her, she'll have the time to grill you again," Ginny warned as she walked to the door and him. "Thank you for being so good natured about it tonight."

"For you, anything," he replied softly. Standing in the doorway, he bent his head and captured her lips. Ginny forgot that she was at her childhood home, Harry's tongue precluding any thinking. She could only feel … his arm holding her tightly, his fingers tangled in her hair, keeping her face close to his, her heart threatening to come out of her chest, and her blood singing throughout her body.

Neither was sure how much time had passed when they heard a throat being cleared. Very loudly. Dazed, both glanced around. Ginny's father was standing two steps down from the second-floor landing. "I hate to break this up, but I think it's time you go inside your room and shut the door, Pumpkin, and let Harry find his bed upstairs."

"Right, Dad," she replied, and it was a testament to how affected she was by their kisses that she didn't show her father any irritation but still pulled Harry's head down for another, much shorter kiss.

"See you in the morning, Love," Harry said before turning to trudge up the stairs.

Arthur glanced at his daughter. "I like the lad," he told her, "if that means anything."

"It does, Daddy, it does." Father and daughter embraced briefly.

Ginny shut her door and Arthur went on to the loo. He'd witnessed a rather heated snogging session, and ordinarily he would be concerned, but talking with Harry in the work shed had somewhat put his mind at ease

The following morning, the smell of bacon wafting up the stairwell and beneath her door beckoned to Ginny, causing her eyes to flutter open and her mouth to water. Perhaps it was watering even before she awoke; she wasn't all that sure. Grabbing the green dressing gown, she donned it and slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers. After a short trip to the bathing room she quickly went down the stairs to find Harry already up and helping her Mum, who was apparently quizzing him about his career.

The soft patter of her feet on the steps drew his head around, and he smiled when he saw her. Like a needle to a magnet she went right to him. He set a lid over the fry pan and wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her close. Mindful of Mrs. Weasley's presence, the kiss they shared was short but no less sweet.

"Ginny, dear, please set the table. Harry's just about finished with the bacon, and the eggs are almost done, too. Daddy's in the lounge checking to make sure Father Christmas came for all of us who are going to be here today." Though she rolled her eyes, she seemed to Harry to be tolerant of what she apparently considered a foible of her husband's.

Ginny set to immediately, and a few minutes later her Mum sent her to fetch her Dad.

After grace was said over the meal, Arthur picked up his fork and looked around. "Well, the Jolly Ol' Guy has remembered us again. If Bill, Fleur, and our granddaughters were going to be here, Molly, I believe we would have trouble getting everyone in the lounge for all the gifts."

"We had no trouble last Christmas," his wife reminded him.

He reminded _her_ that they had another grandchild this year. Molly and Ginny shared a look before rolling their eyes simultaneously.

At noon the slamming doors of a car could be heard outside. "Percy, Marianne, and Amy are here, Molly," the Weasley patriarch called to his wife in the kitchen.

Harry was sitting in the lounge with Mr. Weasley, having been shooed there by Mrs. Weasley earlier. Ginny, however, had been conscripted to help with the preparation of what food had not been able to be made the night before.

Ginny had complained that Harry got to go sit with her Dad whilst she had to help out. Molly merely gave her a smile and reminded her that Harry, "the good lad," was out of bed and helping with breakfast whilst Ginny was still burrowed beneath her duvet and motioned for Harry to go on to the living room. She turned away from the couple to resume preparing the asparagus.

Harry rubbed his fingernails on his jumper in a preening fashion and gave her a 'butter wouldn't melt in his mouth' smile. Ginny eyed the dish towel that was slung over the back of a nearby chair, thinking she could use it to pop him on the bum; her Mum was still in the kitchen, though, and she knew the sound would draw her Mum's ire, so she contented herself with sticking her tongue out at her boyfriend. Harry, who'd followed her gaze to the towel, waggled a finger at her and then blew a teasing kiss at her before heading to the drawing room.

The babble of new voices drifted into the drawing room and presently a tall, slender redheaded man, his slim brunette wife, and a redheaded toddler who otherwise resembled her mother entered the room. The little girl expressed herself the way Harry had wanted to: she stopped and stared at the tree, the angel on top of which brushed the ceiling, the lights twinkling madly, and pointed. "Oooh! Mummy, 'ook!"

Politely, Harry stood up when the woman entered the room.

Marianne knelt beside her daughter and was coaxing the coat off the little one. "I see, Amy. Granma and Grampa have a pretty tree, don't they?"

"P'itty," Amy repeated, trying to escape her mother to explore the brightly-wrapped boxes beneath the tree.

"Amy," Percy, who Harry guessed was close to thirty, said warningly, "we don't touch the presents underneath the tree. They're not all for you."

"Mine!" she insisted, placing her hands on her hips.

"No, there are some for Mummy and Daddy, Auntie Ginny, and everyone else in the family. We have to wait until after dinner to open them."

Amy's little bottom lip started to quiver. "Pease, Da?" Harry would've given her every box under the tree at that point, but Percy was made of sterner stuff. "Do you want to go into time out?"

She turned to her mother and raised her arms. "Up!" Her parents shared a smile as Marianne lifted Amy into her arms.

Percy greeted his father and then saw Harry for the first time. "Hello, I'm Percy, the third of the six brothers. I wasn't aware we were going to have company. Please excuse our ignoring you."

Harry stood and held out his hand. "Not to worry," he told Ginny's older brother. "You have a cute little girl there."

"She's a steamroller masquerading as a little girl, eh, Marianne?" Percy replied. "She gets her way much too often, I'm afraid. That'll change when the new little one arrives."

"That sometimes happens," Harry agreed politely. Ginny hadn't said much about her brothers, only that they needed to be experienced rather than described, so he wasn't sure if Ginny knew that her sister-in-law was expecting a baby again. Mr. Weasley didn't appear surprised, though, so perhaps it wasn't _new_ news to the family. "I'm Harry Potter. Ginny took pity on me and brought me along."

He was saved from further small talk by the arrival of another redhaired man. This one was stocky, shorter than the first, and by himself. Amy launched herself at "Unca 'arlie," which Harry took to mean 'Uncle Charlie.' Ginny did tell him that Charlie was the second born.

This was proven by the man himself who, Amy on his hip, shook Harry's hand. "Charlie," he said. Like his body type, his voice was more substantial than his younger brother's and his grip tighter. "You with Ginny?"

Harry nodded, expecting to be interrogated by the brothers, but Amy claimed Charlie's attention once more. He was just resettling himself on the sofa when more new voices joined the din. The redheaded man who entered next was taller than Percy and just as thin. He was looking over his shoulder saying, "C'mon, 'Mione. Mum said there are biscuits in the drawing room."

Charlie immediately snatched the plate of shortbread biscuits and put it on the floor between his chair and the sofa before what had to be Ginny's youngest brother entered. The newest comer looked at the now-empty tea table and then around the room to see who had the plate of biscuits. Not seeing it, he focused on Charlie. "Charlie, where are the biscuits?" he asked suspiciously.

Charlie took umbrage at this. "Why are you looking at _me_? _They,_" he pointed at his other brother and his wife, "were here before me, and Dad's been here all afternoon."

Mr. Weasley continued his examination of the bookshelves, searching the tomes for a particular Weasley holiday favorite and spoke up in a voice free of inflection. "I'll thank you to leave me out of this."

"See, Dad said you did it!"

"I didn't hear Dad say anything of the sort. Now stop being rude and say hello to Ginny's guest." Charlie turned and winked at Harry who was somehow able to keep a straight face. "This is Harry Potter."

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there. I'm Ron, Ginny's youngest brother."

A short, bushy-haired brunette came in behind Ron. "You're being rude again, Ronald?"

"Why is it me always in the wrong?" he whinged.

"Because, unfortunately, it _is_ always you in the wrong." The woman smiled at Harry. "I'm Hermione Granger-Weasley, Ron's wife."

Harry had again gotten to his feet when she entered the room. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."

"And you." She turned her dark brown eyes toward Charlie. "Charlie, did you hide the biscuits from Ron?"

Charlie gazed at her stonily, but she stared him down and eventually he crumbled. "Never seen a woman like you, Hermione Granger-Weasley, and that's not necessarily a compliment," he grumbled as he handed the dish of shortbread biscuits to the younger of his sisters-in-law.

"Thank you," she replied sweetly. Ron was trying to get the plate from her, but she was holding fast to it. She turned her stare on him. "There are other people in the room, Ronald. Be sure to share." At those words she allowed him to take the plate from her, cheeks flushing a bright pink when Ron smacked a kiss on her cheek. Spinning on her toes she went back to the kitchen.

Ron lifted his first biscuit to his mouth and groaned in pleasure when the initial bite went into his mouth. Harry noticed that despite his wife's strictures Ron was holding onto the laden plate. He also noticed that Arthur was allowing his adult children to decide their own actions, though he had no doubt that the man was well respected by his sons – and daughter – and would step in if need be.

The noise in the kitchen suddenly became a cacophony. "Ah, yes," Mr. Weasley murmured. "The twins."

"They always make enough noise for there to be six of them," Percy sniffed.

"Bite your tongue," Charlie admonished him. "Let's give thanks that it _is_ just two of them."

After several minutes Mrs. Weasley had seemingly had enough and everyone in the lounge heard her raised voice. "OUT! Go to the lounge or we won't be eating until midnight! Demelza, Leanne, get them out of here, _please_!"

Loud laughter pealed out in response but footsteps approached the lounge. Harry was still standing and was immediately noticed by the two identical young redheaded men who entered, being pushed from behind by laughing women.

"I say, Gred, there's a black-haired man in here. Obviously not one of our brothers."

"Too true, Forge. Plus, he's a scrawny, speccy git. Definitely not one of ours." The speaker raised his voice to call over his shoulder. "Gin-Gin, is this one yours?"

"Harry's with me, yes, Fred," she called back. "You and George play nice. You don't want to upset your favorite sister on Christmas."

Harry wasn't insulted by the appellations given him but took a good look at the brother who spoke last. Fred. George must be the other. He grinned. "Harry Potter. I've heard a lot about you."

"Hear that, Gred? She says she's our favorite sister."

"I did indeed, Forge. She must've forgotten she's our only sister. But we must be her favorite brothers since he's heard a lot about us."

"That, and she'd be in here already to enforce her word if it wasn't true."

Fred nodded, looking as if he was impressed with his twin's powers of deduction.

Harry was definitely amused by these two. None of the other three gainsaid the twins but did look long-suffering; this was apparently not the first time they heard the routine.

"Oi!" one of the women in back of the twins said. She was the tallest of the women in the room, though that wasn't saying much. Her hair was light auburn and pulled back in a French twist.

"Oh, sorry, dearest." Turning to Harry he commented, "I have the pleasure of introducing to you my fiancée, Demelza Robins." If Harry remembered right it was George who was engaged to Demelza.

Fred didn't need prodding. "And this lovely lady is my significant other, Leanne Dupree."

"Hi, Harry," Leanne, a dark-haired brunette, said with a smile. "Don't pay these two any mind."

Harry grinned. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you," he said as he shook hands with one of the twins, noticing as he did that he was taller than them and probably their other siblings with the exception of Ron.

"Did you hear that?" Fred crowed, glancing at George. "It's a pleasure to meet us!"

"Bet he didn't say that to the other blokes," George replied.

Harry wisely kept his mouth closed.

"Tell us about yourself," Fred invited.

"Like, how long have you been with Gin-Gin?"

Now here was a dilemma: did he say 'a couple months,' counting since they reconnected; 'eleven months,' totaling their time together; or 'eleven months altogether,' and confess to having broken up with her until she came and rescued him from his folly?

Fortunately, Ginny came to his rescue. "Fred, George, Ron, go wash up. We're just about ready to sit down. Perce, Marianne, Mum suggests you put Amy in the highchair before everyone else goes in. She thinks it will make it easier on Amy."

Marianne picked up the toddler and headed for the dining room.

Harry approached Ginny. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Need protection from my brothers?" she smirked.

He bent slightly to drop a kiss on her nose. "Not at all. I think they're funny. But I miss you."

"Barf," Ron, overhearing his sister and her boyfriend, commented.

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," Ginny snapped at him. Turning back to Harry, she said, "If you want to help put food on the table, I'm sure Mum – and I – will be glad for the help."

Their fingers intertwined and they went to the kitchen together. The Weasley matriarch, looking a bit frazzled, handed both of them a plate or bowl for each hand whenever they returned to the kitchen until she handed the platter holding the turkey to Harry, the last item to go on the laden table.

"Trying to make us look bad, Harry?" George called.

"I didn't think that was possible," Harry responded blandly.

"Oooh," Fred said, looking at his twin. "I think that was a compliment. I like that." They burst out laughing.

One side of Harry's mouth twitched up, but it was the side away from the twins so it wasn't seen.

"Hey, Gin-Gin!" George called.

Fred continued, "Harry just dumped you for us!"

Ginny appeared and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Now _that_ truly _is_ impossible!" Harry commented as he slung his arm around her waist and gave her a side-ways hug.

Again, the twins showed their appreciation of Harry's comeback.

With thirteen adults and a little one at the table, it didn't take long for food to start dis-appearing. But once everyone finished eating and got up, Harry was shocked to see there was still plenty of food, most of which would be divided between the unmarried offspring to take home with them.

Ginny and Harry sent her Mum into the lounge to relax. He cleared the table whilst she filled the dishwasher with the first of several loads. Knowing that no one would be able to open gifts until Ginny and Harry joined the rest of the family, Hermione and Marianne helped.

Before long the quartet rejoined the family and Demelza and Leanne were given the task of handing out all the gifts under the tree. Harry learned that Leanne was a year younger than Fred and George whilst Demelza was the same age as Ginny; both had been dating their twin for three years and thus been considered part of the family for some time. Their choice as the gift distributers was understandable in that light – close enough to be trusted with such a weighty task but unbiased. .

There were so many gifts to pass out that it took quite a while to accomplish. Harry was surprised not by the two gifts handed him that were from Ginny but by the gift from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He opened that one first and found a thick, green, hand-knit winter scarf that looked like it would be very warm. Immediately he thanked his host and hostess and was glad he had the foresight to get gift ideas for her parents from Ginny. Next, he opened the lighter of the two gifts from Ginny and was delighted with the gloves.

"You noticed," he laughed.

"I did. There have been times I thought your hands were colder than mine!" Ginny was opening a gift from her Mum and Dad and shook out a hand-knit, turtleneck jumper in a light shade of gray embellished with a galloping black horse, mane and tail flying. She held it to herself and beamed at her Mum. "Thank you so much!" she called across the room. "You've outdone yourself this year, Mum."

"Thank you's" were being called across the room from recipients to givers, raising the noise threshold to almost uncomfortable levels. When Harry looked around, he noticed that most of the family members either had a hand-knit jumper near them or were opening up a gift with a jumper in it. Even Amy received a small yellow jumper sporting a white sun – for "Gramma's and Grampa's little sunshine," Molly explained. He wondered almost wistfully what emblem she would put on a jumper for him if she were to knit one for him.

Remembering the last gift in his lap, he made short work of opening it and found the tin of treacle goodies. "Thank you, Ginny! There're so many I'm going to be able to freeze some of these so they'll last. And don't tell Neville what you gave me or he'll hound me for some!" He kissed her cheek and she smiled.

At last Ginny had opened all her gifts save one, the one Harry bought for her. She read the tag, "To Ginny, Love, Harry," before turning the wrapped cube, about three inches by three inches, around in her hand and looking at him speculatively.

"Go ahead, open it. I promise there's not a baby dragon in it."

She laughed. "Well, that wasn't on my list of possibilities, but it's good to know it's not that," she allowed. All her other gifts she had opened with the finesse of a tiger disemboweling its prey. She treated this gift differently. Slowly, carefully, she lifted each piece of tape from the green foil paper. When the last bit of tape was released, she slid the box from the wrapping and carefully folded the shiny paper. Then, her lower lip caught between her teeth, she lifted the lid. Her hand flew to her mouth as a gasp escaped from it. "Oh, Harry, it's gorgeous, but you shouldn –."

"Don't say it," Harry ordered her softly. "I don't deserve you, but you _do_ deserve this."

"Harry," she whispered, "love isn't _deserved_. Love just _is_." She raised a hand to caress his cheek before touching her lips to his. It wasn't a passionate kiss nor a long one, but it was full of meaning, and both understood it. No one else in the room existed for that moment. She pulled back and held up the open box. Inside was a rose gold double-heart pendant, one heart partially stacked atop the other. The outside edge of the top heart was set with diamonds. The outside edge of the bottom heart was set with emeralds. "Put it on me?"

At his nod she extricated the pendant and fine chain from its bindings and lifted it. She gave him the chain and then swept her hair off her neck. Harry was holding the chain ends ready to clasp them together when he looked down at her bowed nape. His mouth went dry and he realized he would much rather place his lips on that luscious bit of flesh than the chain.

Someone cleared their throat and cleared the haze in Harry's brain at the same time. He glanced around and realized that he'd been caught by Fred, who was smirking at him. No one else seemed to have noticed, until his gaze clashed with Charlie's. _Don't mess with my little sister,_ Charlie's eyes sent. _Understood,_ Harry's replied.

"Harry? Are you having a problem?" Ginny inquired, unaware of the silent communication between him and Charlie.

Harry blinked. "No, there, it's done." He let the delicate chain rest on her skin, and she allowed her hair to fall back to its usual place, effectively removing temptation from Harry.

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "What a beautiful piece!"

The eyes of every other woman in the room were drawn to Ginny's chest. One "ooh" or "aaah" after another sounded through the lounge. The men were silent, all but Mr. Weasley and Charlie, and Harry, of course, wishing they had thought to get something like that for the woman in their life.

Ginny lightly touched the two hearts with her fingertips and smiled at Harry. Since they reconciled Harry was constantly making her feel that she was precious to him.

Music had been playing softly in the background. Mrs. Weasley reached over to turn the volume up. "Harry, traditionally we sing Christmas carols as we clean up from gift giving and for a bit afterward. Would you like to lead us today?" She gave him a mischievous look.

He was surprised but not unwilling – and then with horror he recognized the CD that was playing. It was one he'd released for Christmas last year. Looking at Ginny, he asked her help by raising his eyebrows. She shrugged. Her brothers were going to find out sooner or later, the shrug confirmed. He listened for a moment; 'God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen' was the cut playing, and finally he joined in with his recorded voice. "O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy," and then Ginny joined her voice to his, "O tidings of comfort and joy…."

Around them mouths were falling open. "Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

"Language, Ronald," his mother chided him.

"He's a bloody millionaire!"

"Language, Ronald!" Hermione joined Mrs. Weasley in remonstrating him.

"No wonder he can bloody well buy her a bloody diamond and emerald necklace!"

"Language, Ronald!" boomed Mr. Weasley's voice over his wife's and Hermione's.

"What?" Ron asked in bewilderment. "How are the rest of us supposed to compete with Harry Bloody James? Flashy gifts and the voice of an angel."

"Oi!" Ginny, totally out of charity with her brother, yelled, glaring at him. "Shut it!" She brushes her fingers along Harry's arm. "He does have a lovely voice, though."

Hermione glanced at her husband in disappointment. "Christmas gift giving is _not_ a competition!" She crossed her arms in front of her and turned her back to him, ignoring his playful whinging.

"So how long have you known?" George asked his parents.

"About Harry's talent? We found out after Midnight Mass," his mother replied. "Harry sang along with the carols last night, and we talked about it on the way home. Now, Harry's been kind enough to lead us. The least we can do is join in."

Their voices filled The Burrow, some of them tunefully, some of them not, and covered the sounds of wrapping paper being crumpled and thrown into rubbish bins. When the last bit of paper was off the floor Ron was relegated with taking the near-to-overflowing bin to the backyard whilst Mrs. Weasley asked for pudding orders. Besides the mince and apple pies Harry noticed Christmas Eve evening there were also Christmas pudding and cherry pies. A queue was formed by age with Mr. Weasley going first. Ginny, the youngest in the house with the exception of Amy, decided to help her mother with the cutting and serving. The first order of business, though, was flambeeing the Christmas pudding. This wasn't the first time Harry watched a Christmas pudding put to the flame, but it seemed more spectacular because it was in a home setting. He decided he would have a small slice of that and a slice of the mince pie.

Later that afternoon Ginny looked outside and noticed that it was growing dark; the hill behind the house was lined with the last of the golden sunshine. Harry followed her gaze and then sighed. A glance at his watch confirmed the time. "It's five o'clock, Ginny. If we're going to get home before midnight we should get going."

"Home?" Ron pounced on the noun. "As in, you two are shacking up?"

Hermione clamped her hand over her husband's mouth. "What is _wrong_ with you, Ronald? Get your coat!" Rolling her eyes in commiseration with Ginny, she ushered Ron toward the front hall, "We're going home before you do any more damage – or incite your sister to kill you and me to help her!"

Ginny huffed. "Both of us live in Manchester, you git!" she enunciated slowly. "So it's 'home' as in 'Manchester is where each of us live'." Her hand was holding onto Harry's tightly as if begging him to keep her from going to her brother and doing just what Hermione predicted she would. Since she'd already given Ron a gift this year, the fact that she was resisting the urge to throttle him should at least count for his birthday. "I'll go get my duffle – I packed as I was changing this morning. Mum will give us some bags to carry our gifts in."

Harry nodded. He, too, was packed, so it was no time before they were back in the lounge. As promised, Mrs. Weasley had bags waiting for them, their gifts inside. Ron and Hermione were gone.

"Mrs. Weasley, I can't thank you enough for allowing me to join your family for Christmas. I was an only child, and my parents died in a plane crash when I was very young, so I don't remember a Christmas like this one."

"Oh, Harry, you are welcome any time. We always have room for one more, in our home and in our hearts." She enveloped him in a tight bear hug.

In his throat there was a lump as big as the piece of pudding he had eaten. He repeated his thanks to Ginny's father and was assured that he would be welcome to join them any time.

Then Harry helped Ginny with her jacket, though Ginny rolled her eyes as he did. A flurry of good-byes and hugs were exchanged, and Fred assisted them taking the extra bags to Harry's car. With Ginny on the other side of the vehicle so she couldn't hear, Fred shook Harry's hand and clapped his free hand on Harry's shoulder.

"All I can ask is that you treat Ginny right. All six of us get riled when she gets hurt – Ron's just a bit trigger happy when it comes to protecting the family. I like you and hope you're around for a long time."

"Thank you, Fred." He cleared his throat. "About that hurt part. I've done that already, but I'm doing my best to never do it again." To his surprise Fred nodded.

"George and I had heard about that, and we knew when the two of you got back together. That she's still putting up with you tells us you're doing all the right things – well, that and the pretty sparkly item that's around her neck. I doubt the others know, and that's probably a good thing."

"Thanks again, Fred. Anytime you want to attend one of my shows, let me know and I'll get you tickets. George, too, of course."

"Hey, Potter! Get your bum in the car and shut the door! In case it's escaped your notice, it's freezing out here!"

The two men stared into the car. "Yes, ma'am!" Harry replied chuckling. Fred smirked and stepped back, and Harry slid behind the wheel. When the car backed away, Fred waved at his sister and her boyfriend and returned to the warm house.

_**AN:**_ As always, my thanks to gryffindormischief for Betaing this story for me. Thanks, too, to all of you who read and especially review the chapters. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: A New Year**

Once Harry had the car on the macadam, he rested his hand on Ginny's. "I think this was my best Christmas ever. I can't remember a better one, that's for sure. I really appreciate you allowing me to tag along."

Ginny ran her free hand over the sleeve of Harry's jacket. "I'm glad you came with me. All in all, it went well. Except for that git brother of mine."

"Ron?" Harry hazarded a guess though he was sure that was who she meant.

"Yes, Ron. He plays the overprotective-brother role like he thinks he's going to get an award for it. Hermione will set him straight when she gets him home."

"She's a scary one," he commented. "Seems to have him on a short leash."

"He needs one, don't you think? She's gotten through to him where Mum never could. Might not seem it to a first time viewer, but they're really quite happy together." Ginny's fingers rubbed the wool that was hiding her new pendant and she sighed in contentment. "Did I thank you for my gift?"

"Oh, just once or ten thousand times, I think."

She chuckled. "Good. Let me make it ten thousand one times. Thank you, Harry."

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it in answer.

Except for the Christmas carols playing softly on the radio, it was quiet in the car interior for a timeas mile markers ticked away. Harry glanced at Ginny to find her head resting on the headrest and her eyes closed. "Have you fallen asleep?"

"Hmm? No, I'm awake. Are you doing okay?"

His leather-clad fingers caressed hers. "I'm all right. I keep thinking about the day and how wonderful it was. I've never been around that many people whilst celebrating Christmas, and they all loved each other."

She leaned over and brushed her cheek against his shoulder. "Everyone in my family loved you."

"I think that's a bit of an overstatement, Love," he returned.

"Not so much." She shook her head.

"Tell me about your brothers again, now that I can put names with faces. What do they do? What's Bill like? Is Charlie as fierce as he seems?"

She told him that Bill headed security, cyber and physical, for one of the major British banks. He was married with two children, both daughters, and another baby on the way. Charlie was a veterinarian for exotic animals, and, yes, he _was_ as fierce as he seemed. His last romance ended just before she and Harry – she stopped there. Harry understood. Percy was a Ministry lawyer.

"Could've pegged that one," Harry muttered.

Ginny chuckled. Perce and Marianne were married for seven years now. He already knew that Fred and George owned a joke shop, she reminded him.

"And are they your favorite brothers?"

"They're my favorite _twin_ brothers. Bill is a favorite, also." And that left _Ronald_, she pronounced in an excellent imitation of Hermione. _Ronald_ worked for Stafford in the Premier League but Ginny was vague as to his actual position because _Ronald_ was vague about it. It couldn't be that big of a deal, she concluded.

When Harry asked why Ron was so overprotective, she thought for a moment and said she reckoned it was because he was so low in the pecking order. His sister was the only one on whom he could pull rank – not that it did him any good, she assured Harry, who laughed. That topic exhausted, they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Harry reached over to the tuning button and twiddled it, looking for a radio station playing pop music.

"Let me do that, Harry. You need to give all your attention to your driving." He moved his hand back to the steering wheel and she searched for a station they both would enjoy. After a moment she left the tuner at a station that was in the midst of playing Harry's song, "Stay." She softly sang along until he joined her, and their voices became stronger. The rest of the journey to Manchester was spent singing together.

"I still say you should chuck your day job and join me on stage," Harry commented whilst a commercial played between two songs. Ginny just laughed lightly, shaking her head.

Before they knew it, Harry was parking his car at the kerb in front of Ginny's flat. He slung the handle of her duffle over his shoulder and carried two of the bags of her gifts up to her darkened home. She followed him, carrying the last bag, having kicked the door shut before putting her foot on the first step.

Flipping on a lamp she motioned toward the sofa. "Just put all that stuff there." Her eyes found the wall clock. "Just past ten now. Would you like a cuppa?"

He set the bags and duffle where she indicated and turned back to her. Gathering her close, he said, "Not really. I would like some lip service, though."

He bent his neck to lower his face to hers; his fingers combed through her hair, and she rose up onto her toes. Their mouths meshed, tongues mating, hearts racing. Eventually they had to breathe but after gulping more air they continued snogging. Hands began wandering a bit; her bum tingled where his fingers brushed it. Heat pooled low in her belly. Too soon for either, they made the mutual decision to back away.

Ginny wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold now that their bodies were no longer touching.

"Shall we get together tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"I'd like that."

"Are we on for New Year's Eve?"

"Oh, yes, definitely. Where did you say we're going?"

"There's a dance at one of the hotels downtown. They play a wide range of music from pop to country to rock to … well, just about every genre of music. Sometimes they'll throw in a random ballroom dance, like a waltz, rumba, foxtrot, that sort of thing. I've got tickets if you'd like to go. If you aren't interested, we can do something else, even if it's just dinner." He watched as her teeth snagged the inside flesh at the outer edge of her bottom lip and worried it. That one little habit of hers was about to kill him – he wanted to be the one nipping at that delectable lip. He struggled to keep from pulling her into his arms and snogging her through the night and into daylight.

"Mum actually took me to a ballroom dancing competition when I was … fifteen, I think. It looked horribly uncomfortable for the woman dancer, but the whole thing … well, even then it seemed erotic to me. I blushed horribly. But it sounds very nice. I'm not the best dancer, mind, but I do enjoy a slow dance, and I won't step on your feet."

Harry hadn't realized he was holding his breath, waiting for her answer, until he let it go and inhaled again. "Dinner at seven and then we'll head over to the dance hall?"

She nodded in agreement. "Seven for dinner and then we go dancing."

"Right. What time shall I come for you tomorrow?"

"What are we going to do? You know, it really doesn't matter. We can spend the day here watching the telly or whatever. I'll be up and decent by nine. You can come over any time after eleven. I'll need the time to straighten up here."

"Eleven it is, then." Once more he held her close and kissed her, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth and lightly clasping it between his teeth. She moaned in pleasure and sent his blood thrumming through his veins. He knew he needed to leave, and now, before things got out of hand. "Good night, Ginny. I'll see you in the morning."

"The morning," she echoed.

"I love you." Another kiss followed his words.

"I love you, too."

It was a whisper so slight that initially he didn't believe she actually said it. It was the first time she said the actual words, and it was like a hand gently squeezing his heart. How was he going to manage to leave her now? He took her lips again in a slow, tender melding of mouth and tongue. She moaned and then lovingly pushed him away from her. "Go home, get some sleep, then come back here."

"Yes, Sweetheart."

She walked him down the stairs, they shared one last, short kiss, and then he was on the sidewalk in the crisp night air and she'd shut the door. Her fingertips caressed her lips swollen from the stubble present on his face and the force of his kisses. She could still feel his mouth on hers, could almost smell his musky scent. Eleven o'clock was never going to arrive – why didn't she say 'nine'? As if sleepwalking, she climbed the stairs again and walked into the bedroom. She managed to complete her ablutions and was dressed for bed without being conscious of doing it. Oh, she had definitely fallen in it deep!

The week between Christmas and New Year's passed in a blur. They spent most of their waking hours together, and the following Monday evening whilst watching an old movie on the telly they fell asleep in each other's arms on the sofa. She awoke sometime between three and four, shivering. "Harry, come on."

"Umm, huh?" His eyes were heavy lidded from slumber.

"Come back to the bedroom with me. It's cold out here, and it's much too late for you to go home." She reached over and turned the telly off.

He stumbled into the bedroom behind her. He toed off his shoes and they crawled into the bed still in their street clothes. Spooning himself around her, he draped his forearm across her waist. She twined her fingers with his, then both slipped back into sleep.

She awoke slowly, the idea that _something_ was different niggling at her consciousness. Her eyes blinked several times and when they focused fully, she found a very masculine hand dangling over her side, fingertips grazing her ribcage where they'd slipped beneath her jumper in the night. _Harry's here!_ she swiftly realized. And he was in a very … interesting condition. His soft, shallow breaths rustled her hair and she could tell he was still asleep. And she needed to visit the loo. With careful movements she was able to slip out of bed without waking him. She stood at the edge of the bed and looked over at him. His hair was more tousled than when he was awake, and she reached out to comb it back from his eyes. There was an ache inside as she thought about waking up every day with Harry beside her in the bed. Carefully she opened her lingerie drawer and pulled out a yellow bra and matching knickers and took them with her. Shortly, she exited the bathing room and ducked into the walk-in closet, pulling the door closed, and turning on the overhead light so she could change. That done, her slipper-clad feet took her to the kitchen where she put on the teapot and made porridge.

When both the teapot and the porridge were simmering Ginny went back to the bedroom to wake her sleeping beauty. Without her in the bed Harry had flopped onto his back, but the arm at the middle of the bed was outstretched as if looking for her. There was just enough room between him and the edge of the bed that she was able to perch at his side. _Goodness, with that dark stubble, he even looks sexy when he sleeps!_ she thought. An idea came to her mind and she grinned impishly. With an economy of movement, she leisurely stood, leaned over his prone body, and rested a hand on either side of his head. Then she began to slowly blow on his face.

Suddenly she was sprawled over Harry, his arms holding her tightly to him. "Caught'cha," he commented triumphantly.

She pouted prettily. "I thought for sure you were asleep!"

"Darling, any time you come near me my senses go into overdrive." He puckered his lips and she pressed hers to them. "You know," he said after the brief kiss, "Last night I thought I was having the most wonderful dream, following this siren into her bedroom and crawling in next to her. Then I woke up in a strange but decidedly feminine bedroom this morning and knew it had been a dream come true."

Ginny's face was so close to his she was extremely happy she'd taken the time to brush her teeth whilst in the loo. His head began moving, closing the distance between their mouths, but she pushed away from him. "Your beard is too scratchy. Besides, the teapot and porridge are on the stove," she said primly. "They and I will be awaiting _you_ in the kitchen."

His hands reluctantly fell from her back, allowing her to rise. "I'll be there in a few," he told her.

She was already on her way out of the door but waved the back of her hand at him.

When Harry sat down at the table, washed but still unshaved, Ginny set a bowl of porridge in front of him and at her place. As soon as Ginny sat, Harry tucked in. After swallowing his first spoonful, he looked down at his rumpled clothing ruefully. "Please excuse my being so disheveled. I don't ordinarily sleep in my street clothes," he apologized. "I appreciate your not kicking me out this morning."

"It was four in the morning, Harry, and colder than a witch's heart outside. I couldn't do that to you," she replied. "I didn't have any nightgowns I thought would fit you, so I'll excuse your clothing," she teased.

Harry almost choked on his cereal at her words. "That's fine, Ginny – I don't customarily wear anything between the sheets."

The partially indistinct image that appeared in Ginn's mind caused her to swallow wrong and set off a paroxysm of coughing. Her face also turned a bright red to rival her hair.

Harry smiled guilelessly and continued, "Your bed is really comfortable – I can't remember ever sleeping better. Of course, it could've been the _body_ pillow I clutched so closely whilst I slept."

Her blush threatening to deepen, Ginny grinned. "So the _body_ pillow wasn't too … lumpy?" She wasn't about to admit it, but after sleeping with Harry, both on the couch and in her bed, she awoke feeling more refreshed than she could remember, too. The idea of sharing a bed with Harry every night was very appealing.

"Oh, I've had … smoother pillows," Harry admitted, "but those '_lumps'_ just enhanced my sleeping experience."

A year ago, or even in June before they broke up, bantering of this sort would've been unthinkable to Ginny. Since they'd gotten back together, though, Harry had been more open and affectionate with her, and she was relaxed with this teasing side of him.

Harry was watching Ginny's reactions to his teasing, not sure, especially with his crack about sleeping nude, if he was pushing her boundaries _and_ his luck. He was delighted to know that she wasn't at all uneasy and just a bit embarrassed. She hadn't protested nor gotten angry. In fact, she'd dished some back at him.

He thought about their bedtime snog at her parents' Christmas eve, about sharing breakfast with her Christmas morning when she was fresh-faced through sleepy eyed, how she'd burrowed her head into his chest. Then, this morning, when she'd tried to prank him. She'd felt so good lying atop him, their bodies touching everywhere. He really wanted to experience that again … and again, and again. A lifetime of that _might_ be long enough, he reckoned – as long as he lived to be one hundred and she lived as long.

Bowls empty, Harry helped Ginny clean up and then they cuddled together on the sofa, talking idly. Ginny's feet were tucked up on the cushion, and Harry's hand was playing with her hair. He let her know what his concert schedule was shaping up to be and that it included a stop in Munich, Germany.

At lunchtime Harry went out for a couple hamburgers and chips for the two of them to share. When they finished eating, they indulged in a bit of a snog, and then Harry went home after Ginny told him she needed time to get ready for their date.

Harry was back at Ginny's door at half five to take her to dinner. When she opened her door to admit him his jaw just about dropped. "You look stunning, Ginny," he told her sincerely.

Ginny'd taken a shower and shampooed her hair, then blown it dry. Using a curling rod, she created a waterfall of waves in her long, coppery hair. Then she pulled the top half of her hair back and up, using a golden butterfly clip to keep it in place. The rest of her hair hung in a rippling river down her back. Harry had never seen her wear her hair like that, but it was beautiful. He stared for several minutes, his eyes roving over the hair do before moving to her face.

She was wearing a little more eye makeup than usual, adding eye liner and some lilac eyeshadow to her usual regimen of blusher, mascara, and lipstick, and an alluring perfume wafted through the air around them. Her Kelly-green satin blouse was V-necked with no buttons for the first couple inches, and it was paired with a Christmas-plaid full skirt. On her feet were black strappy heels. Harry really didn't want to take her out where other blokes could ogle her; it seemed staying in would be more pleasurable for all parties. But he had no choice; he knew she'd kick his arse if he changed their plans at this late date. His eyes swept up and down her body and his gaze was warm when he looked into her expressive blue eyes. "Let me amend that. Love, you're gorgeous. You're stunningly gorgeous!" On impulse he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it before kissing her wine-glossed lips.

"Thank you, Harry." Her cheeks turned pink as she swiped at the traces her lips had left on his. "You look very nice, too."

Beneath his jacket he was clad in a red crew-neck sweater layered over a white, button-down shirt. His trousers were black along with his brogues.

Together they'd decided to go for seafood and Harry had called in a reservation the week before. The only reason he'd been able to secure one was because he accepted the early time offered. Now he helped her with her coat and they headed out for the restaurant.

They talked whilst they enjoyed their meals – steak and lobster for him, a combo platter for her with fried prawns, grilled tuna, and crab legs.

Harry spoke about how much he enjoyed these holidays with her. "I'll never forget my first Christmas at The Burrow," he told her as he cut into his steak.

Ginny smiled, enjoying his allusion to future Christmas visits to her parents' home.

"It must have been fantastic growing up in such a large family." He popped a small piece of meat in his mouth and began to chew.

"You could use that adjective, certainly," she chuckled, "along with chaotic, crowded, frustrating, and lacking privacy."

He swallowed his bite. "Was it mostly a pain in the arse?"

She shook her head. "No, it truly was, for the most part, 'fantastic,' as you said. There were times when money was tight, but even then, Mum knew how to make the times fun. Uncle Gideon, who never married but doted on all of his nephews and his lone niece – me – had a vacation home on the beach, and we were always welcome there for overnighters and days at the beach.

"Mum excelled at making her grocery money stretch, helped along by the vegetable garden and the chickens she raised. Fortunately, all of us love tomato and cheese sandwiches and sliced egg or egg salad sandwiches. As we got to be teenagers, we were allowed to bring a friend along." She speared a small prawn.

"Would you want a large family yourself?"

"As a teenager I would have answered with an emphatic 'no.' Now, however, whilst I don't want seven, I think four or five would be good, but that, of course, would depend on the father of the brood. What about you?"

"No less than four, I think. I was lonely as a kid and don't want that for my own children. I think I'd prefer to live in the country, too, which would make it very hard for a small family."

"Oh, we didn't have much time to be lonely. Being part of a family this large meant we all had chores to do. Even the boys had them. I've always been thankful I never had to clean out the coop. That was a nasty, smelly job!" She wrinkled her nose.

"I'd rather imagine that than have to do it," Harry admitted.

"I heard you tell Mum that your parents died in a plane crash when you were small. How old were you then?"

"Two. My father had his pilot's license and was going to a conference in Versailles. Mum had never been to France, so she went along. I was left with my godfather, Sirius, for the four days they were to be gone. They never showed up in LaHavre, and the plane was never found. So my Mum's sister and brother-in-law were awarded custody of me. My cousin and I never got along much. He was a bit of a bully but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon closed their eyes to it. I did better at school than Dudley did, and I think they resented me for that.

"My best times began when I was six and allowed to spend a weekend a month with Sirius. Then when I became ten Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon called Sirius to come get me permanently."

"Oh, Harry, how awful!"

"No, the awful part was that they didn't do that in the beginning. I suppose giving custody of a two-year-old to a bachelor wouldn't have been fair to him. I put a bit of a crimp in his style at first, I believe. At thirteen he judged me to be old enough and mature enough to be left at home alone whenever he went out."

Ginny covered his hand with hers, her heart aching for him. "But weren't Christmases with your godfather fun?"

He shrugged. "They seemed more like any day of the year, other than the decorations and gifts, I mean. He wasn't much of a cook, though most days we got by. One of the best things he did for me was encourage me in my schoolwork and let me know he loved me. He did tell me that I was allowed to invite friends over whenever I wanted, but I really only wanted to be with him. Going away to uni was difficult but an eye opener all the same. I think that's why I was so susceptible to _her._"

Ginny preferred not to talk about _her_, so she asked about Sirius. "And your godfather? Are you still close?"

Harry grimaced. "He died of a massive heart attack – he was a horrible smoker and drank a bit – my second year at uni. That truly was a rough time. I was with her then and, looking back, she was sympathetic for the first couple weeks and then she thought I should be 'better.' I don't know why I didn't see it then."

"See what?"

"Her self-absorption."

"Oh." That was another conversation stopper as far as Ginny was concerned. "Well, you truly are better off without her."

"Goes without saying," he replied after hastily swallowing a bite of his jacket potato. "Listen to me, whinging about my childhood when so many have it much worse than I did." Resolutely he turned the conversation away from himself, choosing to talk about the dance they were going to after they finished dining.

Harry was thankful for the valet parking available for those attending the New Year's Eve dance or they would have had to park blocks away. Between the cold and Ginny's heels he suspected it would have been an uncomfortable walk for her. He helped her out of the car (during the winter she was more amenable to his 'protective' gestures so she could stay in the warmth a bit longer) and up the broad steps into the hotel lobby.

They followed the sign's direction to take the elevator or stairs to the mezzanine floor and the ballroom there. Though Ginny protested that she could walk, Harry led her to the bank of elevators. She rolled her eyes at him. "Humor me," he said with a chuckle.

They were the only ones standing there so she stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't stick it out unless you intend to use it," he told her.

"Is that a challenge?" she smirked.

The elevator door opened and they got in, Harry pressing the appropriate button. "If you wish it to be."

She didn't even wait for the door to close to press up against him and snog him. His arms went around her automatically. The doors at the mezzanine opened and then closed, and they continued to snog. They didn't notice the elevator moving downward again or the doors sliding open once more.

"They have rooms here for that," someone sniped loudly.

Slowly they parted. "Um, sorry," Harry apologized, fighting a blush. He hit the 'M' button again. Ginny was studying the floor, her face the trademark Weasley red. This time they exited the elevator at the mezzanine, both ignoring the old lady as they were leaving. As soon as the doors closed Harry began laughing. She elbowed him lightly.

"All your fault!" he protested.

"Oh, I think you were a more-than-willing participant," she rejoined, eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter.

Next to the doorway to the ballroom was a coat room. He helped her take hers off and handed it to the young woman manning the booth – Ginny gave the attendant her purse, too – before tucking his new leather gloves in the pockets of his own and giving it to her.

After Harry handed their tickets to the man at the door, they entered the ballroom.

There was a sparse crowd mingling in the cavernous room. The innermost tables were for parties of two or four. Harry and Ginny were too late to snag a dance-floor-side table but were able to get one in the loosely-formed second row. Starting with the third row out the tables were circular and for larger parties.

Instrumental music flowed from speakers around the large room. A blonde young man in dark waiter's garb approached them, setting a complimentary basket of crisps on the table they claimed, introduced himself as Draco, and asked if they had a beverage order. Harry asked for a dark ale and Ginny opted for a glass of rosé.

The trickle of attendees quickly grew to a stream and the room gradually filled. Before long the six-piece band appeared on the stage and began their warm-ups. The evening's dancing was inaugurated with ever-appropriate Pink's 'Let's Get This Party Started,' and the dance goers shouted their approval. Harry tilted his head toward the dance floor and Ginny nodded. Dancers were streaming onto the floor and beginning to gyrate. Ginny and Harry carved out space for themselves at the edge of the floor not far from their table and began moving to the beat of the song.

It was only when the band finished their first set of songs that the couple sat down again. Harry moved his chair closer to hers and laid his arm atop her chairback, his hand caressing her upper arm. Ginny lifted her goblet of wine and siphoned half of it down.

"Easy, Ginny," Harry laughed. "You want to be able to get back on the dance floor, don't you?"

She set the crystal down. "Dancing is hot work!" she exclaimed. "I'm parched!"

Harry looked around and finally caught the eye of their waiter, who came over as quickly as he could. "Refills, sir?"

"Not quite yet, but we _would_ like a tall glass of ice water each, please. Do you have hors d' oeuvres?"

"Yes, sir." He whipped a small card out of his pocket and handed it to Harry. "I'll give you a moment and be back with your ice water."

They looked at the short menu and decided together on corn crisps and artichoke dip. Draco came with their water and left with their appetizer order. Harry lifted his glass of ale to Ginny. "To my lovely date," he toasted.

She clinked her goblet lightly against his glass. "And to my handsome escort," she responded.

Their crisps and dip were delivered and tasted, to much moaning and praise, and as they munched, they conversed. "Did you know this hotel is topped by a conservatory?" When Ginny shook her head, Harry went on, "I understand it's very nice and has a great view of the city. Maybe at the next break we can go up."

"Sounds nice," she agreed, London was lovely at night, buildings lit and in the winter months covered in all the trappings of Christmas. Noticing that the band was onstage and taking their places, she raised her glass of water to wash down the last bite in her mouth before adding, "but let's get back on the dance floor before it gets too crowded. Show me some impressive moves, Potter."

Harry followed her, and they stood with their hands clasped until the lead singer announced, "This set is being opened with an old-fashioned waltz. Since we don't play that kind of music, the PA will provide it. If you don't know how to waltz, please be courteous to those who do and make sure you don't bowl anyone over."

Chuckles greeted his words, and some of the couples left the floor. "Well?" Harry asked, looking at her, and Ginny, who'd made a trip to the library to refresh her memory of how the dance was done, assumed the correct pose for starting out. Harry slid one arm around her waist, warm and sure, and raised their clasped hands. With the music streaming around them, they stepped into the dance.

Harry seemed to know what he was doing as they whirled and twirled around the room, and Ginny did her best to follow him. It was an exhilarating dance to her, and she was glad they'd decided to take part in it. Their circuits around the dance floor seemed to cast a spell on them, as if she and Harry were the only two people in the room, in the world, moving gracefully through the glitzy ballroom like a dream. At the end of the piece they were breathing hard and held each other as if helping to keep each other on their feet.

"That was wonderful," Ginny gushed. "We ought to do this more."

"We'll look into it," he promised, cheeks rosy as Ginny's with exertion.

The live band started up again with an old Rolling Stones number, 'Jumpin' Jack Flash,' and more modern dance steps were exhibited. They stayed on the floor for the entire set, laughing and teasing as they whirled each other in increasingly athletic moves and were eventually rewarded by a much slower tempo. Ginny slipped into Harry's arms and rested her head on his chest as they moved to the strains of 'This I Promise You.' She didn't want to move when the music ended, and he was content to hold her until the crowd on the dance floor cleared some.

His lips brushed her perspiration-cooled forehead as he murmured, "You want to sit for a few minutes and quench your thirst, or are you ready to go see the sights?

"Oh, let's go see the sights," she replied, but snatched up her glass and took a gulp of water as they went by their table.

On their way out, Harry saw their waiter. "We'll be right back – don't let anyone take our table!"

"I've got your back, sir," the blonde replied.

At the top of the building, the elevator opened up into the conservatory. The lighting was dim, and amongst the varied plants were conversation groupings. They made their way to the northern end of the building. The brick wall was about a metre high with glass extending another four metres to the ceiling. Ginny stopped with her toes just short of the bricks, and Harry came up next to her.

"I'm so glad you mentioned this, Harry," she said softly. "Look how beautiful it is out there." She was looking at all the Christmas lights shining from nearby buildings and the steeple of a church further away that was illuminated.

"I'd rather look at what's beautiful in here," he answered.

She looked up at him. "You're full of compliments tonight, Mr. Suave."

"Have to say what I feel," Harry answered with half a thought, brain mostly occupied with the uncontrollable tremble in his hands.

She tilted her head, entirely unaware of his internal suffering, and smiled before turning her head back to the scenery. "The only thing that would make it prettier is a sky full of stars." Typically, the English sky was overcast.

Harry took a deep breath. _It's now or never,_ he told himself. He went down onto one knee and took her hand.

At the tug on her hand she looked back and then down to where he knelt. "Harry? Whatever –"

"Shh," he instructed. "I want you to know that I love you deeply, that I am so thankful you are in my life, and that I know I'm a better man with you beside me. I can only hope that you feel even a fraction of what I do for you." He slid a shaking hand into his trouser pocket and pulled it out in the same motion. A small box was now in his hand, and he flipped it open. "I can think of no better way to end this year and start the new one than knowing that you will be my wife. Will you do me the great honor of marrying me? Please?" Anxiety was evident on his face.

Ginny stared down at him. This was the last thing she expected but what she knew with sudden clarity she wanted. Tugging him to his feet, she threw her arms around him. "Yes, a thousand times, yes." She tilted her head slightly, wetting her lips lightly with her tongue in subconscious invitation, and he stood and closed the distance between them, his tongue sliding past her still-parted lips.

Relief flooded through him. He had thought she would accept his proposal but wasn't one hundred percent certain. _My wife. She's going to be my wife._ He would've been surprised to know that Ginny's thoughts were along the same lines as his.

She pressed closer to him then, lost in the sensations he was evoking with his tongue and his hands, one of which was palming her head, the other of which was stroking up and down her back. She mewled her desire for him.

Finally pulling apart to breathe, Harry asked teasingly, "Do you want this?"

She looked down at the ring box in his hand. An oval emerald surrounded by small round, brilliant-cut diamonds set in rose gold was exhibited by the box. Her eyes opened wide. "Harry, it's gorgeous! Of course, I want it!"

As Harry took it from the box, Ginny held out her left hand, fingers spread, so he could slip it on her ring finger, a bit amazed that her hand was trembling. As soon as the ring was seated at the base of her finger, he tipped her chin up and claimed her mouth again in a heated, proprietary kiss. When their lips parted, there was a gleam in his eyes she hadn't seen before. "You're going to be mine." Satisfaction, joy, and, overwhelmingly, love mingled in his voice.

Her eyes glistened from the tears of joy she was holding back. "And you'll be mine," she reminded him in a whisper.

"How soon can we marry?"

"It depends on when the church in Ottery St. Mary's is available. How soon do you want it?"

"Yesterday."

She smiled. "Unfortunately, we can't do this retroactively."

He pouted and then hugged her tightly. "The band is probably back again."

"I think I'd rather be alone with you," she admitted, fingers toying with his starched collar.

"One celebratory dance and I'll pay our waiter, then we can go if you really don't want to ring the new year in here."

She shook her head. "Too public."

He let go of her waist but took her hand, the one with the ring that staked his claim on her and hers on him, and they made their way back to the elevator. It arrived mere seconds after being summoned, and another couple exited, laughter spilling from their mouths. Inside the car he held her and they kissed some more, though they both tried to stay alert for their arrival at the mezzanine – or the possibility of being stopped at other floors. It proved to be difficult though not impossible.

Draco was standing near the door when they walked in. "Welcome back," he greeted them.

Harry beamed down at Ginny. "She just agreed to be my wife," he said proudly.

"Let me be amongst the first to congratulate you both then," the waiter said.

"Thank you. We're going to dance once more and then take off. Would you total our bill for us?"

"Yes, sir. It will be on your table when you finish your dance."

When they got to their table, they discovered the set was being opened with a rap song. He looked at her questioningly, and she shook her head. "I don't care for this type music," she answered.

Harry laughed, "Not really the ideal type for a first dance after getting engaged, eh?"

They sat closely, Harry's arm around her shoulders and her head resting against his. Once Draco delivered the bill, Harry passed over enough to cover it and then some. With most of the partygoers filling the dance floor, their exit was easy. Once they'd retrieved their coats, Harry and Ginny spilled out onto the street and left with a world of possibilities before them.

**AN: **Many thanks to those of you who have read and especially those who read and reviewed! And it goes without saying that I'm very thankful to gryffindormischief for beta-ing this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Wedding Bells**

In the darkness of the car Harry held her hand, his thumb twisting her brand-new engagement ring across the face of her finger. Ginny sighed happily, her head turned to look at him. After a moment she said, "We need to tell my parents."

"Were you planning on going to see them tomorrow?"

"No, I have to be back at CHR Thursday. My vacation officially ends tomorrow."

He nodded. "That would make it difficult. Five hours down, five back would leave little time there."

"Mmm," she hummed her agreement. "It was the same last year. They didn't want me to even be there overnight and drive back New Year's Day because the traffic would be so bad."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, holding hands whenever possible, until they arrived back inside Ginny's flat. Ginny puttered around the kitchen, preparing tea for them, whilst Harry hung up their outerwear. Then he joined her in the small kitchen, standing behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Mmm, you smell good," he whispered before pressing several kisses onto the side of her neck.

She tilted her head to one side to give him better access. As he continued his attentions she shivered in his arms, enjoying the feeling of his lips on her skin.

The tea kettle whistled, and with a sigh of regret Harry stepped back. She poured the hot beverage into two cups, and he carried his to the tea table in the drawing room, and Ginny trailed holding her own cup and a plate of her Mum's sugar biscuits. Settling on the sofa, Harry laid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his side. After a moment he broke the silence.

"What with getting married," a goofy grin appeared on Harry's face at the word, "we have a few things to decide."

"Such as?" Ginny was definitely interested in what Harry's thoughts were and whether they mirrored hers.

"Where to live. How would you feel about moving to Bristol?"

That was _not _one of the things she was pondering. Ginny pulled far enough away that she could look at him. "It would certainly make it easier to go see my family and eliminate the need for you to drive there and back for practices."

"And is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?"

"Yes, I reckon. I'll miss my job and the people I work with, but I can get another there."

"That may not be necessary for a while yet." He leaned forward to pluck a biscuit off the plate. She darted another look at him. "We don't know how soon we can get married, and you wouldn't want to have to commute until we do." he told her practically.

"True. Shall we call my folks tonight?"

"I defer to your preference," he told her.

"Well, before we call, perhaps we should decide a few things."

"Such as?"

"A date we'd like to shoot for. Who we'll have in the wedding party, how large we want the wedding to be. Colors."

"Sweetheart, I'll go along with whatever colors you want."

"Puce and purple?"

Harry stared at his fiancée. "Surely you jest. I don't even know what color puce is!"

"Just checking whether you truly mean you'll go along with the colors I want," Ginny told him with a cheeky grin. "By the way, puce _is_ purple."

"Okay, then, no puce or purple. Or pink, at least not for the men."

"Blue? Green? Yellow? I can wear those colors pretty well without my hair clashing horribly."

Harry took a sip of his tea and set the cup back down. "Any of those. Maybe you can go with green for my eyes, for the ladies." He fluttered them outrageously, drawing laughter from her, "and red for the guys, for your hair. Or blue, for your eyes."

"Green and red, even though not on the same garments, is too … Christmassy. I'd really prefer one color for bridesmaids and groomsmen. So, again, colors."

"Can I think about it, and you do the same?"

She dipped her head in a short nod. "Shall we move to a date?"

Harry reckoned January or February were out of the question. "How about we elope?"

"And have Mum kill both of us? I'd like to live to enjoy our marriage for years to come." Ginny leaned forward slightly and push her shoes off with a sigh of relief. When she sat back, Harry drew her toward him, and she gladly cuddled into his side.

"Agreed. How about March?"

"I don't know if she'll go for it, and she's bound to ask if we _have_ to get married, but we can float the idea past her," Ginny decided after thinking about it for a moment.

"Okay. If she gives us a definite 'no' we can revisit the question. Next decision."

"Hmm. Well, the number of attendants will depend on the size of the wedding so let's talk about that next."

"I won't need more than twenty or twenty-five invitations, and that includes the people in my crew. Neville will be my best man, by the way."

"Noted. My family is pretty large. Dad has three brothers, and all but one have multiple children, and Mum has two brothers, one of whom has a family. Then there are cousins in the Weasley family, great-aunts and uncles on both sides, and some close friends. We might be able to get by with a guest list of a hundred or so."

"Sounds good to me. So how many attendants then?"

"I think two but additional ushers."

"Shall I have some of your brothers be ushers?" Harry chuckled and pinched her side, "Just your favorites though."

She beamed at him. "That would be lovely. How about we make it a competition, we can get some bribery from the Weasley boys," Ginny said with a laugh. "Food? Do you have a preference?"

"It depends on the timing, surely."

"It will. Okay, we can table that, too."

Ginny lapsed into a thoughtful silence. She doubted Harry would want a say in the flowers and design for the invitations. She'd need to begin looking for her dress and choose her attendants' immediately. Flowers. Peonies? Would they be available then or prohibitively expensive? It was something they could talk about.

"Okay, let's get the call made," Ginny commented and picked up her cell phone, pressing the numbers to call her parents. The phone call went pretty much the way she expected: her Mum wanted to know if she was pregnant, couldn't understand why they wanted a small wedding, and had numerous other objections. Ginny looked at Harry, who mouthed, "Why don't we just do it ourselves?"

She put her hand over the speaker. "Do you know what that would entail?"

"No, but tell me what you want me to do, and I'll take care of it."

"You're sure? Once we start doing this we can't back out."

He nodded. "To get things the way we want them, yes."

"Okay, but you better be as good as your word." He nodded again, and Ginny interrupted her Mum. "It's okay, Mum. Harry and I will take care of everything."

Her Mum squawked at that, but Ginny stood firm. It turned out that Harry's money paved the way to get things done the way they wanted quickly. As soon as they ended the phone call with her parents, Harry revealed more of his background. His father had inherited shares in a medical company that one of his great-great-grandfathers started; it had been sold by Harry's grandfather in exchange for a great deal of money and some stock. Harry was very wealthy, so wealthy that he didn't _have_ to work. He also made a decent amount of money in his singing career. He told her that she would not _need_ to go back to work after the wedding and her move to Bristol. It was a novel thought, whether or not she worked was entirely dependent on what _she _wanted.

The only thing the money couldn't fix was the wedding date. They wanted 15th March at the church the Weasleys attended, which was totally unavailable. They ended up with a noon wedding on eighth March because Harry's latest acceptable date was the fifteenth; he was anxious for their wedding night and wasn't ashamed to let her know. Ginny just smiled, as she was like minded.

Ginny made calls to the different companies that provided wedding products and services. She paid for her own gown, which she found on a sale rack because the stores were getting gowns for spring weddings, as well as shoes and a small trousseau. When she found out how much peonies would cost, she switched to more economical white roses, even though Harry said they could afford the more expensive flowers. They planned their guest list which, in order to include everyone in the extended Weasley family and the closest of her parents' friends plus a few of Ginny's, came to one hundred thirty-two. She browsed different bakeries and came up with a design combining the best of what she saw, and it wasn't overly fussy nor odd looking. The bakery the Weasleys always used was contacted; during her lunch break she texted a sketch of what she wanted. The shop mailed a glossy back, and she phoned them to approve it and specify the flavor of cake they wanted.

Carter's Catering in Ottery sent them a brochure, and Ginny and Harry sat together at her kitchen table pouring over menus, keeping in mind that with a ten o'clock wedding they needed a brunch-type reception.

George drove Demelza to Manchester one weekend, and the two women shopped for and found her maid-of-honor dress in emerald green. Since George was with Demelza, Ginny dragged him into a tuxedo rental shop to get him fitted for a black tux; he, Fred, and Bill would be the ushers. Harry and Nev went on their own.

Invitations were ordered and received by the end of January, and she spent a good portion of a Saturday addressing them – and had cramping fingers to show for it. Harry offered to help, but Ginny declined, saying, "Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch, and believe me, Sweetheart, I _know_ what chicken scratch looks like. The postal system wouldn't be able to decipher the addresses, but thank you anyway."

When she went to bed each night, her mind was awhirl with wedding details, and she could only hope they weren't forgetting an important element. Thinking about Harry, his loving arms around her, his arousing kisses, and his palpable love, calmed and grounded her. All her fears regarding him ever leaving her again had long since been put to rest.

They visited her family twice before the wedding, on weekends Harry had no concerts planned, leaving Manchester after Ginny's workday was over, and each time Ginny brought her Mum up to date on how the plans were coming. She turned down a bridal shower since Harry could afford to buy whatever they needed. She'd much rather spend a quiet evening with the family.

One Sunday between the two visits to Ottery they tooled down to Bristol so Ginny could see her new home. When she saw it, she was dumbfounded. Like The Burrow, it had multiple bedrooms and bathing rooms but on two rather than three floors; the floors were much more spacious than those in The Burrow. She couldn't believe Harry had moved into his two-bedroom flat from this spacious house, though he assured her that he didn't use many of the rooms in the house when he lived there alone.

Almost before either knew it, it was March eighth. Harry was standing impatiently in front of the altar, the minister on his right and Nev on his left. Ginny's attendants were standing at the other side of the altar, all waiting for his bride to appear. Harry's heart stopped when the music swelled and Ginny appeared on Arthur's arm at the back of the church. Smooth velvet hugging her curves, the modest neckline barely teasing her collarbones that begged for his lips on them. But it wasn't the dress that took his breath away – her smile, bright and loving, and all for him lighting the room took that honor. He thought she'd never reach the altar. And him.

Finally, they stood in front of the altar, and it was just Arthur between him and his bride. Arthur squeezed Harry's hand in a firm, friendly handshake, though Harry couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in the red-haired man's lip as he pulled away to lift Ginny's delicate veil. Lace trim tickled her shoulder blades and shimmered like a waterfall down her back, only just allowing a glimpse of the pearl buttons that ran along the sway of her spine.

Ginny's eyes had seen only the tall, raven-haired young man standing at the front of the church, and her lips instantly curved upward. The bouquet of white roses in her hand shook slightly. He was so good-looking that at times she still had a difficult time believing he loved her enough to spend the rest of his life with her. He seemed so solemn, hardly like her Harry. And then her father gave her hand to Harry, and his smile lit up his face.

What she remembered most about the ceremony afterward were Harry's sparkling emerald green eyes holding hers and that his voice had been loud and steady. Her emerald-and-diamond engagement ring was joined by a plain rose-gold wedding band that tucked beneath the emerald and diamonds. And then Harry and she exchanged their first kiss as a married couple, and it only left them hungry for more.

The Marauders played at their reception, and Harry and Ginny's first dance as newlyweds was, of course, to 'Stay.' Whilst they danced, Harry echoed the comment Ginny had heard many times, though none of the others meant as much to her as Harry's, "You're beautiful, Ginny. I've never seen you look so … radiant. When you came up the aisle, I couldn't believe you were really going to marry a slouch like me."

Ginny gazed at him with adoring eyes. "And I've often wondered why such a good looking, sexy man like you would want a 'Plain Jane' like me." She was smiling, but Harry could tell she was serious.

He pulled her a little closer and growled into her ear, "You've no idea yet how much I want you. You stir my _most_ primitive emotions."

"It's too late to frighten me off, Potter," Ginny smirked up at him. "You're stuck with me now." And she gave him a cat-like growl.

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then he threw back his head and laughed in delight, hugging her tighter, crushing her velvet gown, not that she noticed or cared. "I love you, Ginny Potter. How'd I ever get so lucky to have you fall for me? And then forgive me and love me still?"

His use of her new name sent a shiver of joy down her spine. "You were real, Harry. You let me see past the stage persona. I didn't have a choice, not really." She smiled, her eyes full of love for him.

Thumb running along Ginny's hand, Harry couldn't help but let his eyes catch on the sleeves that hugged her slim arms. "Sometimes I forget how tiny you are."

"Though she be but little, she is fierce," Ginny quoted, a teasing look in her eye despite the lofty expression on her lips.

"It's the sleeves – look at your wrists," Harry insisted, letting his warm touch slip up over her arms.

With a soft laugh Ginny reclaimed one of his hands and placed the other on her hip, setting them back to a respectable distance. "Harry, you can hardly start feeling the bride in the middle of our first dance."

"But I'm the groom," Harry pouted. A slight smile flitted across her lips as she shook her head 'no.' He groaned. "Is it time to leave yet?" The music was coming to a close, but he knew he was in no condition to walk off the dance floor. Raising an arm, he motioned for the Marauders to continue playing even though he knew Ginny was supposed to dance with her Dad now. Nev eyed him shrewdly when Mike, the lead guitarist, immediately led the band into another number and, guessing his best friend's dilemma, began to laugh.

By the time the second song finished, Harry had himself under control again and watched, feeling almost bereft, as Ginny was swept away by her father. Pouting mentally, he went back to their table and took a healthy swig of a Bloody Mary. As he watched Ginny dance by, waving the fingers of one hand at him, a sappy smile spread across his face. Then, realizing the next dance was his to escort Ginny's mother on the floor, he went looking for his new mother-in-law.

As soon as their 'obligatory' dances were over, Harry claimed his wife again, very happy to wrap her in his arms once more, and Ginny was just as happy to be there. When the music began, they were disappointed but not surprised that it was up tempo, as all four of the earlier songs were slow dances. They stayed on the dance floor for the three ensuing fast tunes, but when the first strains of another ballad filled the air, Ginny melted against her groom, knowing that the other dancers shielded them from her mother's notice. They swayed more than danced, and when Harry knew the song was coming to an end, he murmured, "How much longer until we can leave?"

Ginny would have teased him except she knew exactly what Harry meant. "We have some duties to take care of."

He nuzzled her hair, thankful that she had removed her tiara and veil. "We've already danced with your parents."

"Yes, but we have to cut the cake, you need to throw my garter, and I have to throw my bouquet."

"Can we not and say we did?" he asked hopefully, tightening his arms around her waist.

She huffed a laugh. 'It won't take that long, Luv. Plus, you _do_ get to remove the garter." She pulled away even though the band was still playing. Catching his hand, she tugged him over to where her Mum sat talking to Ron's mother-in-law, Anita Granger. After explaining what they wanted, Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes but acquiesced.

Harry had already prearranged a signal with his best man. Nev quickly made his way to the bandstand and motioned for the Marauders to take a short break. Borrowing a microphone, Nev told the guests, "It seems our newlyweds are anxious to leave us." Their guests emitted good-natured boos followed by laughter, and Nev joined in. "Exactly what I thought. How rude!" His audience laughed again. "Since we can't change their minds –," He peered over the small crowd, " – can we?"

Harry, standing behind his bride with his arms around her waist, shook his head most emphatically whilst Ginny laughed.

"Then," Nev continued, "we need to clear the dance floor, have Mrs. Potter come up here in front with her bouquet and the single ladies back there," he pointed and moved his arm horizontally, "we'll find out which of our bachelorettes is destined to be the next bride."

Ginny did as she was asked, waiting for the young ladies to assemble. Taking a quick look at the grouping, she turned her back and lobbed her roses straight to her friend Luna. Luna promptly twirled and waved the bouquet at her boyfriend, Rolf, who blanched.

Rolf just about fainted shortly afterward when Ginny's garter, thrown with perfect accuracy by Harry, hit him square in the chest and he caught it reflexively.

Standing by the cake table minutes later, her hands covering Harry's on the cake knife, Ginny gave her new husband a stern look. "If you squash the cake all over my face, you'll be sleeping on the couch tonight."

Harry wasn't sure if she was as serious as she looked and sounded, but he decided not to press his luck. "I'll follow your lead, my love."

She grinned. "Don't trust me, eh?" She pressed down on his hand, and the knife easily sliced through the bottom tier.

Molly Weasley finished cutting a piece of the cake, halved it, and gave a smaller piece each to her daughter and son-in-law. Ginny hefted the small square, waving it a bit before moving it quickly toward Harry's mouth. He shut his eyes, sure she was going to smash the icing all over his face. He was surprised but pleased when the confection lightly touched his upper lip and opened his eyes and mouth at the same time. Some of the frosting stuck to his upper lip as he chewed the cake. Before he could lick his lip, Ginny swooped in and with her lips parted covered his and sucked the icing from his upper lip, sucking that lip into her mouth, too. As their male guests hooted their approval, Ginny backed away and gave Harry, who stood there utterly stupefied, an audacious wink.

"Your turn, Harry," Ginny prompted him, her voice breathy.

Harry lifted his hand holding the cake square. "Ready?"

Ginny nodded, trust shining in her eyes. Harry pushed the piece slowly forward, and she opened her mouth for it. He gently slid it past her teeth. She chewed quickly and then licked her lips, her eyes on his. Harry's moan was so soft she was the only one who heard it.

There were a few groans and mutters about the 'poor show' the newlyweds put on, but Harry and Ginny, still wrapped up in each other, didn't hear them. Ginny's Mum approached them from behind and touched each on the shoulder, smiling when they startled.

"I think you can go change into your traveling outfit now, Ginny," Molly suggested. Ginny embraced her mother quickly.

"Need help, Luv?" Harry inquired expectantly.

Her hand caressed his cheek. "Later. You can help me all you want later."

Demelza, who'd stepped near them as they were cutting the cake, touched Ginny's arm. "I'll come with you, if you'd like."

"I would. There are a lot of little buttons that need to be done."

"Ginny," Harry said hoarsely, "we're just going straight to the hotel. Why don't you wait until we're there to change? That gown is so beautiful on you, and you won't have an opportunity to wear it again." The sooner Harry could get her out of the dress, the better – and he badly wanted to undo every one of those _little buttons_ himself.

Ginny gave Harry a long look. She knew there was something else going on inside his mind. "Alright, Harry." She turned to her maid of honor. "Thank you anyway, Demelza. Just make sure Mum gets the train, tiara, and veil, yeah?"

Demelza nodded, a broad grin on her face. "I can do that."

Outside, the traditional gamut of guests throwing birdseed had to be run, and some of those seeds went down the bodice of Ginny's wedding gown and lodged in her and Harry's hair. Some stung when hitting flesh, but intent on making their getaway, neither paid attention to it. Harry helped her into the backseat of the limousine, tucking her skirt in with her, before sliding in next to her. As the driver set the auto into motion, the newlyweds briefly waved out the side window. Fred and George hooted loudly when in the back window they could see Harry and Ginny kissing heatedly.

Inside the limo, out of breath, they ended their kiss, and Harry gently laid his forehead against Ginny's. "It's a husband's duty to help his wife in any way he can. I'm more than happy to unbutton Every. Single. One. Of those teeny, tiny buttons."

Ginny fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously. "You would, eh?"

"Well, you said I could help all I wanted later."

"I did," she agreed. Their lips met and held, barely coming up for breath the rest of the distance to the hotel.

Later, though his hands shook, Harry enjoyed setting each of the myriad little buttons free.

Their wedding night was everything either hoped for and more and was the precursor to two magical weeks in Greece. Their happily-ever-after was just beginning.

**Epilogue**

After settling into Harry's home and making it hers, too, Ginny decided to put in vegetable and flower gardens. Instead of pursuing a new job, she chose to do some volunteering, at a local school and one of the hospitals. She found even then it didn't take up enough of her time, so she started looking at hobbies and took up knitting. Her Mum was very happy to help her learn the art.

When they'd been married fourteen months, Ginny discovered she was pregnant with their first child. Harry was delighted as was she. Their baby, a son named James Sirius, was born February 10, 2007, Molly and Arthur's first grandson. Jamie had his father's coal black, messy hair and his mother's blue eyes. Ginny and their son traveled with Harry to his concerts, though they stayed back stage in Harry's dressing room. Jamie was just nine months old when Ginny discovered she was pregnant again. As soon as they found out, Harry told Neville, The Marauders, and his crew that when Ginny was seven months pregnant, he would retire. When he'd started touring, he had promised them at least five years, and he had kept his word. The Marauders and Harry's road crew were picked up by a newcomer to the music scene. Nev and Hannah seemed happy that Harry was getting out of the business as Hannah was three months pregnant at the time; Nev's degree was in accounting, and he had no problem finding a position with a firm in Bristol.

On August 20, 2008, Ginny delivered identical twin boys, Arthur George – nicknamed Artie – and Aiden Fred. The two boys had the Weasley red hair and their Daddy's green eyes.

Their fourth son, Joshua William, was born November 3, 2010, with Harry's black hair and green eyes.

Their fifth and final child was also a boy, Brian Patrick, a redhead with blue eyes like his Mummy, born March 15, 2012. Harry told Ginny that as an adolescent he had been afraid the Potter line would die out with him. To be the father of five children, five sons, was shocking to him.

Ginny was happy with her five sons; Harry would have liked to try one more time for a daughter, but due to medical reasons Ginny was never again able to conceive.

After Brian's birth Harry and Ginny found a house, a bit smaller than the Bristol home, in the Scottish Highlands with lots of land, much of it wooded. Ginny recreated her gardens there.

All of the Weasleys' children married and had children of their own; Charlie was the last to tie the knot. Bill and Fleur had three daughters and a son. Charlie and his wife Celine had a daughter and a son. Percy and Marianne had two daughters. George and Demelza were the parents of two sons and two daughters, as were Fred and Leanne. Ron and Hermione's offspring were a son and a daughter, making Arthur and Molly grandparents of twenty-three, a dozen grandsons and eleven granddaughters.

Neville and Hannah Longbottom became the parents of two sons and a daughter, with Melanie Alice born between her brothers, Frank Edward and Gifford Michael (the boys were named after their grandfathers). Though not related by blood, the Potter and Longbottom families remained close as ever. For himself, Harry was elated with every area of his life – most of which was filled by his beautiful wife, children, and a family larger than he could ever have dreamed.

_**AN:**_Many, many thanks to my wonderful Beta, Gryffindormischief, who contributed in innumerable ways to this chapter. Her suggestions were golden, and many of the words contained in this chapter were written by her. Gryffindormischief,' thank you' is a paltry expression in return for all the help you've given me on this story, but Thank You! Thank you, too, to Guest, who has reviewed each chapter and given me encouragement to continue.


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